


Teaching Moments

by Balenae



Series: Moments [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: But just a little, Fluff and Angst, I guess technically, M/M, Making up shit about Omnics, Mondatta ships it, Multiple Orgasms, Mutual Pining, Pre-Canon, Robot Masturbation, Robot genetalia, Self-Indulgent, Some Humor, Teacher-Student Relationship, Violence, Zenyatta is a low-key goober, all sexy like, that's all not till later though, the struggles of robots interfacing with cyborgs, they get off on that a little, versatile lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-29
Updated: 2016-07-24
Packaged: 2018-07-18 22:41:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 29,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7333486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Balenae/pseuds/Balenae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Genji has been a student of Tekhartha Zenyatta at the Shambali monastery for three years now. He's learned almost everything Zenyatta first set out to teach him, but the omnic still finds a lesson or two to impart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So if you've been reading my other fic 'Reconstruction' I know what you're probably thinking. Oh no, she's writing two fics, neither of them will get done. Well GOOD NEWS. This one is finished already. Donezo. It'll be updated every three days or so, my schedule permitting as I finish edits. 
> 
> Written mostly because as much as I love the way Zen is usually portrayed it's not quiiiite what I've interpreted in game. Zenyatta has so many quietly silly moments, emotes, and one-liners I wanted to reflect that a bit. Most of the 'serious' characters do not break character in this way, so I assume it's deliberate. Also, most fics portray Zen and Genji as being out in the world while Genji learns and I don't believe that's correct either, though I enjoy it. Genji's home base is listed as the Shambali Monastery, and occasionally if you're on a team with him in the Nepal map he says 'its good to be home' among other sweet touching things about being at peace being there. He clearly spent some time. 
> 
> This was also originally a 5+1 thing and it just sort of didn't stick, so...
> 
> This now has a totally awesome translation into Chinese by Jader_Se7en if that's your language of choice!
> 
> http://genyatta.lofter.com/post/1e03f0c4_c1493f7

Nepal was beautiful, Zenyatta often reflected, taking his meditation on the overlook of the Shambali temple. It was cold this time of year, with winter drawing closer, and while he did not feel it the way an organic might, didn’t feel the pain of frostbitten fingers, the sting of cold-kissed cheeks, it did affect him. His pistons and servos slowed in the cold, and some of his internal sensors may malfunction should the temperature drop into the extreme.

They kept the interior of the main temple warm, but more than one Omnic had to be fetched where they’d frozen out at the shrine or exposed in the village and warmed slowly back to function. Most had learned to work around it, the Himalayas were a force of nature, and they had to be respected for more than their vista. They shaped the weather for a huge portion of Asia, they could wreck havoc on such a small village of natives and devotees and a temple full of monks. 

He tilted his head towards the sun, a brilliant point in the clear, cloudless sky. Today seemed promising, however. Nothing lurking about the horizon. 

Though, even if there had been, he still likely would’ve made his way to the village regardless, not completely heedless of the danger but the destination worth the risk.

“Master!”

Or his reason for making the trip could beat him.

He watched, awe and affection within him warmer than his servos, as his best student scaled the outside of the temple, silver body armor flashing, the green running lights a wisp of afterimage behind him, reaching the overlook in seconds. 

Genji Shimada, though mostly mechanical, wasn’t built anything like the Omnics here, and the cold never seemed to slow him a bit, every bit as fast and graceful on a cold day as a pleasant one. 

There was perhaps nothing Zenyatta enjoyed more than watching him. 

There was a twinge of guilt within him for such a pleasure, but not enough for him to turn his gaze away. He never seemed to be able to tear his sensors from Genji whenever the man was around.

“Genji,” He greeted him warmly, legs uncurling from his seated position and stood, folding his hands behind his back, the hand-carved Omnic orbs about his neck resting dormant as they were most days, sitting innocuously as though no more than normal mala, “Am I late?”

The ninja hopped over the railing to stand before him and bowed, Zenyatta inclining his head as well. “No, Master. I finished training early today, and decided to meet you here. I am not as often at the temple.”

“You’ve been here every day this week,” The Omnic pointed out, amused. 

“Training has been fruitful this week,” The cyborg told him, cheeky. 

Genji had been a ruin of a man when Zenyatta had met him. Not physically, though he’d already been cyberized, Zenyatta found nothing wrong with the elegant, sleek metallic carapace, but mentally, the Japanese man had been clinging to his humanity by threads.

That was three years ago, and after near-countless hours of reflection and thought the beautiful soul within had slowly blossomed, petals of personality unfurling beneath his tutelage. Though he should hold himself above such selfish feelings, within his own mind he would admit that Genji was his proudest, greatest achievement.

“You looked so peaceful there, meditating, Master.”

“Ah, and you thought you would distract me, hmm?” Zenyatta asked, amusement coloring his tone and beckoned Genji to walk with him.

“…Was I really interrupting you?” 

“No,” The Omnic told him without hesitation, “an interruption is an irritant and a hindrance to an activity, and you could never be either.”

“Thank you, Master,” Genji ducked his head, moving to keep pace, an almost bashful gesture that was terribly endearing from the proud, deadly cyborg. “What did you have in mind for today?”

When he and Genji met in the afternoons—as they had for three years most days without fail—at first Zenyatta used them mostly for instructional periods, teaching the half-rampant cyborg calm and patience, to see beauty in the world and within himself. Sometimes Zenyatta still found a teaching moment or two, but largely Genji was his student in name only.

Genji Shimada didn’t truly need him anymore, but that thought left him colder than the Nepalese mountain wind and he’d selfishly never told him so. One day Genji would leave, and Zenyatta, who would never do anything to hinder him, would let him go, but he would not be the one to broach that subject. Genji would leave when he was ready, but not a moment sooner.

“How about we take a walk to the shrine?” Zenyatta suggested, “Sundatta mentioned a bird was building a nest in the latticework and I would very much like to see it.”

“Will you be alright? It is rather cold today,” Genji worried.

“I should be adequate,” Zenyatta told him, “It is cold but the sun is shining.” Ah, how dearly he wished the cyborg might offer to warm him…

Genji didn’t seem to think much of his assurances, could see the faint worry in the line of his shoulders. “You taught me to pay attention to the world around me,” Genji began, following as they moved through the temple, “But sometimes I don’t feel like you heed your own advice.”

Ah, so there was a teaching moment today. Perhaps he wasn’t totally obsolete yet. “I did, yes. Always be aware of your surroundings. Respect their beauty and their risk in equal measure. This does not, however, mean you should always let the risk stop you from enjoying the beauty. Sometimes the outcome is worth a chance. There is beauty in a cloudless sky and in a thunderstorm in equal measure.”

“I… yes, that is true. I just—“ Interesting, today his hesitance was of a personal nature and not about the nature of the discussion, “—I just worry I’m going to find you out there one day, frozen and nearly inoperable because you decided to do something foolish like watch a nesting bird.”

That brought the Omnic up short and he paused, “Truly this worries you so?” 

Genji nodded, “I could not bear to see you come to harm. Especially not from something I—something preventable.”

Zenyatta would’ve smiled, had he an organic mouth. “Then I will make you a deal, Genji.”

“Oh?”

“We will visit the shrine. But when you think I have had enough of the cold then I will depart with you. Is that acceptable?”

“Yes! Thank you, Master.”

Zenyatta led him forward again, feeling equal parts serene and wily. He was eager to know what Genji thought of his limits, how well the cyborg could read him. Today _was_ a good teaching day.

\--

The bird’s nest was almost entirely made from straw stolen from people’s mattresses. Birds were rare this deep in the mountains, other than the eagles that preyed on goats and migrating cranes, but occasionally they blew in for a season or two. 

He and Genji spoke of things in the monastery as they watched and Zenyatta waited to see what he’d do. He actually began to worry perhaps his student would _overestimate_ him as his core temperature dropped lower and lower, but right before he considered directing them on, Genji laid a hand on his shoulder and said, “That’s enough. Let us go.”

Of course Genji would know, Zenyatta felt by turns foolish for doubting him and proud of his insight. 

They ended many afternoons in this village together in Genji’s small room. It was sparsely furnished and spartan, and Zenyatta had tried to encourage him to personalize it more, make it more his home. Honestly, Zenyatta was the monk, not Genji. 

But the ninja never had more than he needed. A mattress he nearly never used (he did not require much sleep, and the few times he did hibernate for a full night he usually found his way into Zenyatta’s bare chambers in the temple to shut down around trusted company), a stand for his katana, a tapestry from Hanamura, and a picture of he and his brother in their youth, smiling and happy.

Zenyatta adored and hated that picture in equal measure. On one hand, Genji in his youth was a vision. On the other, if there were any being in this world that Genji would leave Nepal to seek it would be Hanzo Shimada. 

But he would cross that bridge when it came. Regardless of when it was or what brought it about, Zenyatta would support Genji’s choices, as long as they were choices that did not lead him back down a dark path. He’d shed blood and tears, fought tooth and nail to crawl out of that dark abyss in his soul. Zenyatta would not let him fall to darkness again.

“Look! Its Genji and Master Zenyatta!”

“Genji!”

“Genji, over here!”

Ah, he did have a small army of allies in this at least.

The village children _loved_ Genji. 

The ninja always seemed startled by them, as though he still expected them to change their opinions of him in the days between playing with them, carrying them on his shoulders, being a rare prize indeed for tag or hide-and-seek. They came out of nowhere and ran around his legs, chattering at him and clamoring for attention. 

“Are you gonna play with us today?”

Genji knelt to be eye level with them, leaning forward a bit, “Not today, Goral. Master Zenyatta has chilled himself and we’re going to get him out of the weather. Tomorrow I’ll play.”

They whined and groaned in protest, but he shooed them off, Zenyatta chuckling, “You have so many admirers, Genji. It’s a miracle you find time for me at all.”

“That’s not true, Master,” Genji protested, hand resting on the metal of his bicep, urging him on again. “Besides, they admire you just as much.”

“Ah, but their admiration of me is just learned from their parents and perhaps that towards a teacher. They are young yet to understand what exactly their parents look up to. You, though, they adore all on their own.” Genji ducked his head in that endearing display of bashfulness again. Zenyatta sighed happily, “I never hoped this place would be so full of both human and Omnic, all here study and learn under the Shambali.”

“What you and the others have built is truly amazing, Master.” 

“Thank you, but there is no need for flattery, Genji. I am aware and secure in my own accomplishments.”

“It is not flattery if it is true,” Genji retorted, that cheek back. 

Zenyatta sighed in mock-regret, “Such respect from my pupil.”

“The utmost, as always, Master. I hope you do not take my familiarity as a sign of disrespect.”

“Never, Genji. Never.”

\--

“Here,” Genji offered Zenyatta a steaming cup of tea, which the monk held between his cold metallic fingers, enjoying the heat emanating into the chilled sensors along his body. Zenyatta couldn’t drink it, but Genji often made it as a courtesy to having his Master as a guest. 

At first the ninja hadn’t thought much of Nepalese tea, his tastes strongly impacted growing up in such a tea-centric world as Japan. But he’d taken to it, preferring now to keep a monsoon flush of orthodox Darjeeling around, preferring the rainy tea over the CTC one usually found in Nepal. 

Even if Genji made tea to serve them, he didn’t always drink it himself either. It was nearly a year before he’d removed the mask to let Zenyatta see his face, nearly six months more before he was comfortable enough bare-faced around his Master enough to drink a cup of tea with him.

A year and a half into it being a regular sight, the experience was still new for Zenyatta and he hoarded these moments with his student. The monk wondered where he’d developed an appreciation for human beauty. Admiring liquid dark brown eyes, a plush mouth bisected by a scar, skin tinged faintly emerald from the fluid that replaced the blood in his veins. Perhaps not the usual human beauty standard, but certainly not things the average Omnic might admire in a partner, human or otherwise.

Ah well. Zenyatta had always been more than a touch different than his brothers and sisters.

Today seemed to be a special day, as Genji reached up and detached the faceplate, setting it aside carefully and picking up his own mug to sip it carefully, not even a hint of self-consciousness in him. It was a privilege and an honor that no one else in this world was afforded. 

“Are you feeling better out of the wind, Master?” Genji worried and Zenyatta nodded.

“Much. My internal temperature is already rising.” He lifted the mug of tea a bit, “This helps with the extremities, my hands and fingers.”

“I was hoping so,” And oh, it was one thing to hear Genji’s smile when he spoke, and quite another to see it. Zenyatta had a feeling that ten years down the road it would still affect him as strongly as it did now, as strongly as the first time he’d seen it. “I will accompany you back to the monastery when you leave. I do not want you to walk back in the dark, it will be so much colder.”

Zenyatta hummed softly, radiating amusement. “We do have a heaters set up in the brick tunnel back to the monastery,” he pointed out.

“You have taken that path maybe _three times_ in three years, Master. You’ll go by the shrine so you can see the mountains in the moonlight, _like you always do_.” Genji favored him with a raised brow, though he had no hair left to speak of, clearly communicating that he wasn’t buying Zenyatta’s fibs anymore.

Ah, pity. 

“You will need your rest as well, you can’t be escorting an old man everywhere.”

“You are _fifteen years younger than me_!” Genji sputtered, “Do not even try that ‘old master’ nonsense!”

Zenyatta laughed, Genji could be so easy to rile. “If it will assuage your worries, you are welcome to accompany me. I am always glad for your presence.”

Genji’s nodded, satisfied, “Good,” he hesitated just a moment, “You would tell me, if I became a bother, Master?”

Zenyatta laid a hand on Genji’s knee, sitting adjacent to one another on the floor, “I will always let you know of any strong feelings concerning you, Genji. Were such a thing possible, I would indeed inform you, but it is not and so I shall not. You could never be a bother.”

It wasn’t a big lie, all things considered. Genji never would be a bother, and he would tell him whatever he was feeling in regards to him.

With one very notable exception. 

But this was one fib at least that his student seemed ignorant of. “Thank you, master. I will always try and be worthy of it.”

“You couldn’t do anything to ever be unworthy, my student.”

\--

Back in his small room in the monastery, Zenyatta closed the curtain that separated his room from the hall outside. He sat in the center of the small room and reached up, carefully disconnecting the cable that powered his voice box. He didn’t trust himself sometimes in his stolen moments like this. 

He hadn’t lied to Genji earlier, he would tell him almost anything that pertained to him, with one notable exception.

Genji didn’t need to know Zenyatta was in love with him. 

The cyborg had struggled so hard with his own mechanization, Zenyatta couldn’t imagine what having the unwanted attention of not only a mentor figure but also an Omnic robot on him would do to the calm and confidence he’d worked so hard to build up. 

Zenyatta would never put his own inconvenient, bewildering feelings onto Genji like that. 

He would keep this to himself and let Genji keep the spiritual freedom he’d fought for. 

But this, this, was the one vice he would allow himself. Alone, silent in his own space, touching nothing and no one else, he would allow himself to dwell on his feelings, and allow his mechanical body to react. 

He wondered sometimes if the other members of the Shambali had feelings like this, if having a soul like humans did also inspired human-like feelings and emotions within them. If this was the natural evolution of the soul or if he was, as ever, different from them.

His metal form shuddered as he stroked fingers along the sensory receptors hidden on his head and neck, places in the delicate machinery on his chest. Designed to keep track of internal and external temperature, air pressure, sound, UV exposure, humidity, heat signatures—Zenyatta could tell as much as a human could, more even—but the sensors were delicate and sensitive to touch. Scattered about his body so cranial damage wouldn’t completely offline his ‘input’ systems, they were like a human’s erogenous zones, these little pockets of sensation were tucked about on his body, and with the right touches the sensors translated not what they were built to read in the world around him, but pleasure in his own metallic form. 

He continued with the ones on his neck, imaging Genji’s deft fingers slipping in and finding all the sensitive places, patches of slightly rougher metal on his fingers and palm where the dragonblade rubbed constantly. 

He shivered, fingers trailing down slowly, finding the sensors tucked away around his chest plate, touching and tweaking, shivering with the building sensation, like a static overload in his circuits and servos but so much better—

The figment of Genji in his mind took on a life of its own. His hands wandered everywhere, reverent, wanting but respectful, mindful of delicate machinery, but not afraid to touch. As a cyborg Genji didn’t need to breath with the same dedication that humans did, but figment-Genji’s voice was still breathless as he touched. “Master… Zenyatta…”

He didn’t know which was more appealing, the breathless groaning of his title or his student’s feverish murmurs of his name. 

And he’d touch in return, oh how he’d touch. Let his fingers trace every edge and curve of that pristine, glistening carapace, how it would glow in the low light of his private rooms, the viridian gleam of his running lights reflecting off Zenyatta’s body as Genji covered it with his own.

Genji would shiver, sensors built right into the advanced robotics that made him, feeling and responding as though he still had human flesh on the outside. He still was flesh beneath, Zenyatta knew—knew his limbs were mostly mechanical, his arms and his lower legs, but his head, his core, those lean, powerful thighs, underneath was all augmented flesh, and between his legs, trapped by the codpiece would be the straining proof of his desire. Zenyatta would free it, undo the plating with the same surety as he would be allowed to undo his faceplate, and his heavy erection would spring free, hot and needy between his legs, begging for his master’s touch.

And Zenyatta would give it to him, would wrap his long fingers around it and squeeze, listen to the trembling timber of his voice as he gasped his Master’s name, hips bucking, helpless to his touch. He would stroke faster, wringing cries from him, watching liquid beading at the slit, and Zenyatta would smear it with his fingers, sensors devouring every bit about his student’s genetic information they could.

He would pull Genji close, his student scrabbling to push his own worn pants down, slot their hips together. Zenyatta lacked the appropriate equipment to interface with human—or cyborg—anatomy sexually, but Genji wouldn’t care, he’d press close and rut his cock against him, his touches feverish and reverent. Zenyatta would settle his hands in the small of Genji’s back, on the swell of his ass, and pull him close, let him take what he needed. Let Genji thrust against his body until he spilled himself, cumming—

Zenyatta’s systems whited out as he was pushed over his own peak, fingers on the sensors in his pelvis, processors overloading with an excess of feeling, so good it left him shaking with it after, slumping, boneless, in his seated position. The Genji of his imagination fading to nothing, alone again in the cool solitude of his chamber.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genji worries, some hypothetical thoughts, and Zenyatta has a point to make.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> /glances around  
> Damn ya'll came outta the woodwork for this. Thank you! Here's hoping this continues to entertain.

“Master, I have a question, if you’ll entertain it,” Genji said to him as they walked along the path by the shrine. It was warmer today, and the monk’s servos felt in no danger of shutting down. 

“Of course,” He said, hands folded behind his back as they walked, “You may ask me anything.”

“Yesterday, when you were teasing me about your age,” Genji began, and Zenyatta chuckled, still hearing a pointed note to his voice.

“What about it?” 

“Well, you are a great deal younger than me, Master. We met when you were only fifteen, and I know age isn’t the same for Omnics, that you were created with the same capacity as a human adult, but I wondered just exactly how long you’ll live?” it all came out in one sort of nervous breath and Zenyatta tilted his head, considering the question.

“I am unsure.”

“You don’t know?”

The Omnic nodded, “Omniums and robotics have only been used in the last handful of decades. Many of the originals were destroyed in the first Omnic crisis, and we have not been around long enough to really know how we stand the tests of time. There is no telling how long an Omnic might live before either the metal body breaks down or deteriorates, or the AI is lost to rampancy. This is all operating under the idea that Omnics will die of ‘old age’ as humans would say, but there are so many more risks that may claim our lives before that would happen.”

“Like what?” Genji asked, voice hushed and subdued.

“Violence against our person is a keen risk of late. We can be infected with viruses either on accident or maliciously, by humans or God-Programs, there are accidents that can happen to us, the same as you. We could break down and deteriorate without regular maintenance.”

“I will not let that happen,” Genji said firmly, as if he was the only thing standing between his master and all the evils of the world. 

Zenyatta chuckled, “I have no doubts. But there are always things you cannot prepare for, or protect those you care about from. Everything expires, Genji. Nothing lasts forever. Enjoy what you have while you have it, and deal with the rest as it comes.” He tilted his head, “Especially since regardless of how long my body will last, I suspect yours will last far longer.” Genji was a far more advanced machine than he was, he would stand the wear of time better, and as technology marched forward, it would be easier to keep him upgraded and functional. 

“Why would you _say_ that?” Genji hissed, distressed, and Zenyatta laid a hand on his arm.

“Because it is a fact of life, and ignoring it will not change things. That does not mean I would wish for you to dwell on the dark inevitability. But we will all be one within the Iris one day.”

“I know, Master,” Genji said, trying to rally but still sounding glum. “Could your memories and drives be transplanted to a different machine? Could you one day be… like me?”

Zenyatta hummed thoughtfully. It had been something he’d considered before, more as a whimsical daydream than a serious thought, the two of them in matching sleek forms, against all time and tide of the world, but it had been little more than passing fancy. He turned it over again now. “Perhaps, the limitation in that case is simply finding a correct interface. Omnics have become more limited since the end of the first crisis. Controlling possible future catastrophes.”

“Could your drives be extracted then to wait until such technology exists? Or downloaded or transferred elsewhere?”

Zenyatta chuckled, “My you’ve been giving this a great deal of thought. So certain I’ll meet with disaster?”

“It is good to live in the moment but wiser to be prepared,” Genji said pointedly, throwing one of Zenyatta’s teachings back at him. 

The monk laughed outright at this, “That is true. And I could not say, Genji. I am no more a master of my own machinery than a human would be a master of their anatomy. There are technicians for that, as humans have doctors. Perhaps one of them may know, should you ask.”

Genji actually seemed to consider this and nodded, “Perhaps I will.”

“I do know a little though.”

“Oh?” 

“For instance, were I to take damage enough to offline me permanently—“ Genji made an involuntary, alarmed noise, “—you can actually disconnect the main cable from my drives to the machinery in my body, isolating it. A little like severing my spinal column.”

“How is that a _good_ thing?”

“It activates a protocol similar to a black box feature. I will be forced into a hibernated state, but potentially it could be used as a preservation tool. A great deal of Omnic units were recovered for analysis from the first Omnic crisis that way.”

“That is _morbid_ , Master.” Genji shook his head, “I wish you were not so delicate. You look as though a strong wind might bowl you over some days.”

Zenyatta paused then, tilting his head at him, weighing, “You think me so frail then, Genji?”

The cyborg seemed to realize he’d misstepped, “…No?”

“Hmm, you do,” Zenyatta sighed, “A pity. You did so well anticipating my limits with the cold yesterday, it is a shame to see you think so little of me now.”

“I—that’s—! That’s not true, Master! I think the world of you! You are just… Your mechanisms are exposed and anything may damage them. It would be so easy to do real harm to you.”

Zenyatta hummed, “Then I invite you to try.”

Genji faltered, visor blinking once, “ _what_?”

“Come, we will spar, I will not take no for an answer this time.” Zenyatta had tried to persuade Genji to practice and train against him in the cyborg’s early days of residency, but Genji had always vehemently declined and Zenyatta eventually let it drop. But not this time. 

This was a _very_ important teaching moment. 

Zenyatta led him to the terrace where Genji did his katas in the morning. The space was wide and open and usually empty, too windy most days to be of normal use. But today the air was still and it would more than do for this. The cyborg followed him, uncertain and protesting, and while Zenyatta appreciated his worries about harming him, he had a point to make. 

“Please prepare yourself, Genji,” Zenyatta said firmly, taking a position on one side of the terrace.

Genji watched him, shoulders tensed and body language unhappy, “Please, I’m sorry for what I said—“

“I know you are, and I forgive your error, but you will not _understand_ until we do this. So take your place, and prepare yourself.” Zenyatta folded his hands before him, “I am going to teach you a bit of wisdom about underestimating your opponent. There is violence in your soul,” Genji flinched at this, “There is no shame in it, Genji, as I have been trying to tell you from the start. I would rather you know how to use it and respect that feeling than ignore it or try and suppress it, which will only lead to heartache. Your anger was always more dire to me than your violence. But I do not want you to get yourself killed one day, misjudging someone. So, we will fight.”

“I just—you are right, you are always right, Master, but I have been… trying to curb it. I am _trying_ , and surely I can, you have been teaching me and you are such a pacifist, Master—“

Zenyatta sighed again, “Genji Shimada, if you think I am a pacifist then you have not been paying attention.”

Genji watched him, frozen, “I—what?”

“I believe it is possible for humans and Omnics to live together in peace and harmony. I truly believe this peace can be achieved through empathy and understanding. But if you believe that I am a pacifist, that I would not fight for my beliefs, for myself, for my brothers and sisters, for _you_ , Genji, then you have a little more to learn about me yet.”

Genji’s running lights flickered once, “Master?”

Zenyatta hummed, not his normal low sound of amusement or tolerance, but a deep, endless Om, blue Omnic energy spreading through his limbs. The nine points of light on his forehead blinked brighter one by one, as his Omnic orbs came to life, one by one to match, glowing, their mechanisms spinning together flawlessly, the orbs orbiting his form like celestial bodies in the endless universe. He lifted one leg, and then the other into a lotus position, floating two feet above the stones of the terrace. He spread his hands, opening himself to the Iris and the world around him, head lifting to the sky and _flexed_ his power, orbs spinning rapidly before their orbit slowed at his will.

Genji watched him, staring though he had no exposed eyes nor jaw to hang slack, “M-Master…”

“Ready your shuriken and your blade, Genji,” Zenyatta told him firmly, watching. Slowly, Genji nodded and slid into an offensive stance, right hand fisted up near his chest, the shuriken hidden in his knuckles flickering in the light. 

Silently, they waited, watching.

Genji struck first.

His shuriken whistled in the air and Zenyatta deflected, letting his orbs intercept the attack, feeling them take the hit and the energy within recharge, and without waiting for a second attack, hauled his arm back, Omnic energy gathering in his palm and _hurled_ it at Genji, who rolled and leapt out of the way, another shuriken flying at him, nicking his shoulder as Zenyatta swerved away, chipping the metal.

He pushed his hand out, palm forward, pushing an orb of dark energy toward Genji, his orbs flashing violet, the essence of discord sticking to him, hanging above his shoulder like an evil omen, like a dark thought. The ninja hissed, the orb of discord bringing all his doubts to the surface and he stumbled, Zenyatta sending another orb at him, this one dinging loud like a bell as it struck his chest squarely. 

“You are holding back, Genji,” Zenyatta scolded, “Do not. I am more than your Master, more than an Omnic, more than a Shambali monk. But it does not matter in this moment, because I am your _opponent_. ”

Genji _snarled_ at him and his aggression was loosed and he struck forward, shaking off the presence of the orb, katana slipping free and striking like lightning, Zenyatta swerving out of the way narrowly, feeling the air move with the force of the swing, bringing his arms around, palm pulsing as he fired another orb at Genji’s back. 

The cyborg twisted around and deflected it, blade whirling and the orb smashed back into Zenyatta’s chest, forcing him back. Pressing his advantage, Genji charged, shouting, furious in battle, “Ryujin no ken wo kurae!”

The emerald of his dragonblade flashed, the afterimage of a dragon glittering in the air behind the blade, slicing at Zenyatta, coming up in an arc and cutting down—

Zenyatta passed into the Iris, six arms of light shimmering into existence around him, the world filling with golden power. His shimmering transcendent limbs caught the blade as it came down, his orbs orbiting around him, golden and otherworldly.

For a moment, for an eternity, they remained locked that way.

Then Genji’s grip faltered and he jumped back, once, twice, looking on, body telegraphing shock. The nodes in his shoulders released their accumulated pressure.

Zenyatta held out his arms, one with the universe in this moment, and let himself pass out of the Iris, and back into the normal world.

“Master, what was—that was—“

Zenyatta’s orbs slowed and rested around his neck, fading to dormancy, and he set his feet on the ground again. “So you see, I am not as frail as you thought.”

Genji’s voice was rough when he spoke, “I see the error of my thoughts, Master,” And then he was all but rushing to Zenyatta’s side, his fingers tracing over the chip he’d left in the metal of his shoulder and said, voice trembling and broken, “I _hurt_ you.”

Zenyatta laid his hand over Genji’s, “You did not. I have no sensors there. I cannot feel it.”

“I hurt _you_.”

“Genji, I promise—“ But then the cyborg was pulling him in, crushing him tightly to his chest, holding on as though Zenyatta were the last lifeline in a sea of doubt. “Genji…” He brought his arms up and wrapped them around him, wishing selfishly that this moment might last forever. Warm, he was so warm… “You did not hurt me, my dearest student,” he murmured, fingers smoothing up and down the segmented length of his spine. “I trusted you yesterday to know my limits. Trust me now to know my own.” He let his hand rest against the back of Genji’s neck, “I would not let you do me real harm. For my own sake, and for yours. I would not ask that of you, or put that on your shoulders. _Trust_ me, Genji, as you have so many times before.”

Finally Genji nodded against the pistons in his neck and pulled back just enough to be able to see his face, “I do. I trust you. I will not make that mistake again.” He straightened, shoulders taking their normal confident curve. “I trust you,” he said, almost marveling at it. “My soul was already in your hands, and gladly, but I would… I _can_ count on your to take care of all that I am.” He murmured softly, and Zenyatta reminded himself this was an awakening moment for his student, not a moment of romance between them. “You can heal my soul, and you would guard my back.”

Zenyatta nodded, “I will pick you up when you fall, and protect you from all the evils of this world that I can. As I know you would do the same for me.”

Genji nodded, firm and sure, and it was one of Zenyatta’s favorite sights, his pupil full of confidence. “Yes, together, we will protect each other.”

\--

Zenyatta should’ve known however that Genji would not just let things lie.

“Why did you never _tell_ me you could do those things?” He fussed, pouting furiously at the mug of tea in his hands, face bare and twisted into an expression of frustration as they sat in Genji’s room. It really was just more adorable than Zenyatta should’ve had to deal with after such a full day. 

“I do not believe you were keen on knowing. You refused my offers so many times, I focused instead on giving you verbal lessons instead of physical ones.”

Genji’s face flushed faintly more emerald, and he sighed, “Yes, I have accepted how _wrong_ I was, but you still could’ve _said_ something. ‘Oh, Genji, my cherished, if stupid, Cyborg student, just letting you know my mala isn’t just for show, I can harness the energy of the universe, and manifest six more, gorgeous, beautiful, glowing—“ he tapered off, face flushing darker green as Zenyatta had started laughing at him, “Stop that.”

“Forgive me, Genji, I did not realize you would take such a personal offense.”

Genji sipped his tea, still pouting, “Still, I have been here for three years, Master. I thought I knew you better than anyone, and then it turns out there’s this huge part of you I would never have guessed at.” 

Zenyatta reached over to squeeze his knee, “You do know me better than anyone. You just know me better still now.”

Genji deflated with a soft sigh, “Is there anything else I do not know that I should? That I have missed?”

Zenyatta chuckled, “No, nothing,” the white lie, “You know me inside and out, Genji.”

Interestingly, the flush deepened a touch and the cyborg buried his face in his mug, “Good,” he said firmly, before his eyes flicked back up to Zenyatta’s face. “What _was_ that?”

“What was what?”

“The golden arms, you looked like—“ He cut off with an embarrassed shrug.

“Like?”

“Like some… great golden _God_.”

Zenyatta hummed in amusement, “a God, hmm?”

Genji groaned, “I knew I should not have said that.”

“No, please, continue,” Zenyatta worked very hard to project his most serene aura, cupping his steaming teacup.

Genji stuck his tongue out at him, but did continue, “What was all that?”

“The Iris,” Zenyatta said simply.

The cyborg’s eyes widened, “The _Iris_?”

The monk nodded, “Indeed. I can pass into its halo for a brief period in time, manifest on a higher plane of thought and existence. When I touch that state, no force on earth can harm me, and I can actually offer physical healing to those around me.”

Genji swallowed, “That is why you were so miffed by my worry at harming you.”

Zenyatta huffed softly, the sound entirely manufactured without lungs, “I was not _miffed_ , it was an important lesson.”

“It was both,” The cyborg compromised. “Can you do it again?”

“In time. Spiritually, it leaves me drained.”

“Show me, when you can,” he said, eager, “I want to see it again.”

Zenyatta chuckled, “As you wish.”

“Can the other Shambali do it as well?”

“No, only I and Mondatta himself have been able to touch upon the Iris. These,” He pointed to the glowing marks on his forehead, “are linked to my mastery of my Omnic orbs.” The orbs around his neck lit up in response to the blinking lights on his head, “Though I can control them separately. They are meant to mimic the moxibustion burns that monks would take to indicate renewal of their three vows over their lifetime, but instead indicate now what sort of spiritual threshold a member of the Shambali has crossed thus far.”

Genji nodded, “You told me something similar when I asked before. Just sans all the really exciting parts.” Zenyatta chuckled and he smiled a bit, “Can you advance further? Take more,” He gestures to his forehead.

“In theory, there is one step further I could ascend to. Take a tenth mark. However this step would be almost indistinguishable from completely merging with the Iris, and becomes something of an impossibility, as passing permanently into the Iris is what happens upon death.”

Genji shivered, “Nine is a good number. I like nine.”

Zenyatta chuckled and patted his knee, “So do I.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sure normally this all would've come out much earlier then this, but Genji was probably pretty obstinate about, well, EVERYTHING, and it worked so well with how I wanted this story to work as a whole. 
> 
> I kind of have this headcanon (I guess?) that the levitation is like BATTLE MODE since he's not really built for physical stuff. He is a delicate, asskicking flower.
> 
> So surprise, Genji! Your teacher's kind of a badass himself. Be badasses together.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zenyatta dreams and Genji has a _lot_ of feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone's support has been almost overwhelming. Thank you all so much! For all the Americans, have a happy 4th of July!

Omnics dream.

This was a statement of fact that seemed to take an inordinate number of humans by surprise. 

They did not, however, dream like humans did. Omnics lacked a subconscious, being equipped with only a singular AI. They entered a situation similar to dreaming when they entered their hibernation mode to recharge, the state mimicking the effects of and as self-sufficient as sleeping, no cords or batteries required. During this process their AI would catalog all their experiences from their active hours, but it was not as straightforward as reliving them, or simply copying them to long term memory.

They ended up fragmented and jumbled, often confusing, bits of recent events muddled into things long past. Sometimes thoughts and daydreams meshed in as well, and the end result was a soup of experience just as surreal as any human dream.

Zenyatta’s dreams were always particularly vivid after he passed through the halo of the Iris. Sometimes he relieved memories in high definition, exquisite detail, more fine and precise than he had lived them the first time. Sometimes he relived even more fragmented and warped pieces of memory, much like a real human dream. Occasionally he had full control of his offline functions, like a lucid dream. 

Sometimes he even saw things that had not happened to him, things that seemed too real to be his own imaginings. Mondatta, when confided to him, had posed that perhaps Zenyatta was tapping into Iris itself and seeing things that had not yet come to pass.

And sometimes, rarely, after passing into the Iris it was a nearly indistinguishable mess of all of them. 

But the real difference between human and Omnic dreams was that in the process of recalling Omnics _felt_ everything just as they had in the moment of experience. The joy, the sorrow, the physical pain.

This made dreaming after touching the Iris potentially _dangerous_ for Zenyatta.

He stood at the edge of the overlook. The sun was setting and the mountains were cast in shadow, but the terrace around him was bright as though lit by a full noon sun. To his left was a black figure, as though a hole had been punched in reality in the exact shape of a human being, light seemed to bend around it and get lost. Looking at it, his chest hurt painfully. 

To his right, stood Genji. He knew it was Genji from the picture in his room, and yet it was his student as he’d never seen him in person. A young man, perhaps twenty, untouched by cybernetics, muscular with his athleticism, hair dyed a bright and garish green, the roots of his natural black hair visible at his temples and widow’s peak, the bright color at odds with his undyed eyebrows.

He wanted to look at Genji, but feared to look away from the black shape. 

He risked it, looking at his student, who smiled serenely at him before his expression morphed into one of panic.

Zenyatta feared what would happen should he look away, but turned his head, slowly like he was moving through water to see what scared him. The black shape has multiplied, stood amongst other blots and empty spaces in the universe. They held weapons, all pointed at him. 

He turned back to Genji to find him hunched over, looking at Zenyatta in horror, his body slashed, his limbs severed, bleeding out onto the ground. Slowly, silver cybernetics slid up his body like fluid, settling over his flesh. He opened his mouth to scream and the faceplate slammed down and all the green running lights blazed like fell flames.

Zenyatta turned back to find a shape as black as the space between stars in front of him. Around them, villagers, adults and children, and the Omnic monks lay dead. The barrel of a gun pressed into his chest and fired.

Pain shredded through him as his chest plate shattered and shrapnel tore through his machinery. 

He woke up crying out, fingers scrabbling at his chest desperately, as if to collect his broken parts or dig out the bullets and collapsed on the cold floor in a trembling heap.

The other monks heard his cries, and found him that way in the early hours of the morning.

\--

Genji paced back and forth with the ill-grace of a caged panther. Something was _wrong_ and no one was talking to him about it, and he was about to go out of his mind. It was like all the monks thought he was an _idiot_ or something. Zenyatta was nowhere to be found and hadn’t shown up to meet him as usual. Every Omnic he asked gave him a different answer and when he’d gone into the monastery to find out what was really going on, the monks there insisted that they were doing a very important ceremony and he wasn’t to disturb them.

Every part of that was _bullshit_ and he knew it. Something was _wrong_ , and the thought of something having happened to his master was enough to scare him, badly.

Zenyatta always advised him to trust his feelings and his senses in equal measure, and both were telling him that he was being lied to. If something so important were going to be taking place then Zenyatta would’ve told him, the Omnic’s mind like a steel trap, (a joke that normally lightened his heart but today brought no pleasure) especially if it would’ve kept him from their usual meetings. 

“I see what Zenyatta means when he speaks of you.”

Genji whirled, berating himself for getting so tangled in his thoughts that his guard was down and found the slim figure of Tekhartha Mondatta watching him from the top of the steps. “What does Master say then?” He said by way of greeting and remembered himself just in time to bow politely. He could count the number of times he’d personally interacted with Mondatta on his fingers, the Master of the Shambali always seeming distant and out of reach somehow, beautiful but untouchable like the peak of Everest.

“He speaks very highly of your determination and focus, and of your strength. I don’t think there is any other singular being that has ever fascinated him as you do.” Mondatta strode down the steps, hands folded behind his back.

Genji’s heart beat faster. It was stupid, he _knew_ Master Zenyatta thought highly of him, hearing it shouldn’t make his chest feel like it was trying to cage a bird. He had not been so pathetically emotional since he was a teenager with his first crush, honestly he was _thirty-three-years-old_ , and shouldn’t be reduced so by an _Omnic_.

Even one as wonderful as Master Zenyatta.

Dammit, there went his heart like a fucking butterfly again. 

“If that is true, then it is because he has brought it out in me,” He said simply, partially trying to be respectful to the leader of the Shambali, but also because it was true. Mondatta chuckled, but it wasn’t a warm sound like Zenyatta’s, like sun across his shoulders, but rather like wind around the mountains. “Please, I know something’s wrong, why will no one tell me?”

“Mm, the weather is rather nice today isn’t it?” Mondatta said instead, looking around the terrace, and Genji ground his teeth.

“Yes…”

“You know, Zenyatta loves it when the weather warms. He leaves his window open.”

Genji frowned and then blinked, straightening, “I see. I thank you for this information.”

“I thought you might like it,” Mondatta said, amused, and turned to head back inside. 

Genji waited till he disappeared within before he tore off as fast as he could, leaping off the terrace and dashing along the outer wall of the monastery, looking for the windows into the monk’s chambers. There! One was open near the outer edge and he leaped towards it, swinging up into the small sill, just large enough to let him inside, and peering within. 

The curtain into Zenyatta’s small room was closed and tied shut, and the Omnic himself was sitting in the center.

Genji knew _immediately_ that something was very wrong. 

When his Master meditated his spinal line was straight, chin raised, arms out and fingers curled, body poised and relaxed all at once. This was no meditation, his lotus position was sloppy and his body was slumped, head bowed forward, arms limp and resting on his knees. None of the lights that glowed on his body were lit, the dots on his head dark, pulsing only with faint intermittent light, and the orbs laying carelessly on the floor.

Genji _panicked_.

“Master!” He dropped out of the window, rushing to his side, looking for damage—what had happened? Why was he offline? Who had _done_ this?—fingers touching all over, yet afraid to touch and trying to find some way to anchor him. His head pounded, adrenaline spiking with his fear, his Master had to be okay, he _had to_ —

As Genji clutched the Omnic’s form his lights blinked on slowly, the points on his forehead lighting one by one slowly, the orbs around him activating and rolling slowly into a uniform position. 

“Genji?” He asked, “What are you doing here?”

Relief flooded him and Genji collapsed to his knees before him, head dropping with the weight of his worries evaporating. Mostly. “Master! Are you alright? What is wrong? They would not tell me—“ his hands clutched the metal of Zenyatta’s arms.

Zenyatta sighed softly, neither a happy nor sad sound, “I should have known they would not be able to keep you out. Worry not, I will be fine.”

“But you are not now?”

“I am very weary right now, Genji, that is all.”

The ninja’s fingers flitted over Zenyatta’s body, unsure, “What happened? What can I do to help?”

“Come,” Zenyatta invited, “Sit with me. I had not wanted to worry you, but your presence always makes me feel better.” Genji did so, sitting next to him, wishing he could instead slot himself against the monk’s side. “The short answer, would be to say that I had a nightmare.”

“A bad dream?” Genji paused, “Omnics feel their dreams, don’t they? Is that why?” he sucked in a breath, “Was it because of our fight? Did I—“

Zenyatta shook his head, “No, it was not about sparring with you. My dreams are always rather powerful after I pass through the halo of the Iris. Occasionally this makes dreaming dangerous for me.”

“Then I take back what I said,” Genji murmured unhappily, “I don’t want to see it again.”

The monk chuckled, but it was a tired sound unlike his usual warm enthusiasm, “it is not usually so bad. Often it is wonderful and quite enjoyable, and the worst it may get is a touch confusing. This is an anomaly, experiencing events and pains that I did not experience while awake.”

“You—you can do that?”

“I can. It is very disconcerting. I am not sure how humans deal with it so much.” The joke fell flat, “Genji I can feel you worrying, please stop. I will be fine with some rest and a normal hibernation period.”

Genji nodded and shifted closer, almost imperceptibly, “Will you tell me what your dream was about?”

Zenyatta hummed thoughtfully, and said instead, “Tell me, Genji, when you were younger, before you were cyberized, why did you dye your hair green?”

Genji went very still, “I was in your dream?”

Zenyatta nodded, “you were.”

Genji was quiet, there was the same ache in his chest, thinking about his life pre-cyberization, but it was dulled, not as sharp under the gentle batter of Zenyatta’s care and acceptance and his own hard-fought peace. So he turned to the thought that always saw him through the shadow on his soul. _I would not have met him if I had not been turned into a cyborg. Meeting Master Zenyatta was worth it_. He released the breath he was holding, and instead of spewing the lingering vitriol over the changes, spoke instead of his past with a lighter heart, “I did it to anger my brother.”

“Did you?”

“Hanzo always used to nag at me that a son of the Shimada clan had to present himself a certain way. So I wore the stiff suits and put forward my best manners and dyed my hair bright green. Just to spite him. He and father were _furious_.”

Zenyatta laughed softly, “I am sure they were.”

Genji’s hand crept over, fingers wrapping around the material of the drape at Zenyatta’s waist, wishing he could instead take the monk’s hand in his own, “My green hair was awful, but it wasn’t bad enough to do this to you. What else happened?”

The monk’s head tipped back, and then bowed forward again, “I was standing between you and figures as black as the absence of all light. Before my eyes you were mortally wounded, your limbs rent and your cybernetics slithering up your body like scales. You tried to scream but could not. The dark figures killed the villagers and the monks, and shot me point blank in the chest. I could _feel_ every puncture and broken part.”

Genji hissed, his hands reaching and taking one of the Omnic’s hands without thought or permission, _“What?”_

“It was only a dream—“

“That is horrible!” Genji shook his head. 

“I am _fine_ , Genji,” Zenyatta said firmly.

“You are _not_ —“

“I will be,” he squeezed his student’s hand, “Please, Genji. I love how protective you are. It brings me joy to know how much you value my well-being. But how did I treat you, when you were feeling fragile, and how did it make you feel?”

Genji was quiet a moment, “You treated me like I was precious, but not like I was broken. It made me feel… like a person again. Like I was _still_ a person. Still worthy of respect.” Zenyatta tilted his head, waiting, and Genji sighed, “As ever, you are correct. I am sorry if I am overreacting.”

“You are, but it is alright. I appreciate the feeling behind it. But there is a difference in caring for and coddling.”

“And you have never coddled me.”

“I never have.”

Genji sighed, “You _would_ find a teaching moment even in your own misery, Master.”

Zenyatta laughed softly and squeezed his hand.

\--

Genji learned his lessons well, he stopped trying to smother his Master, focused instead not on his own feelings about matters but on Zenyatta’s. He stayed with him, their hands slotted together into the evening. Speaking of anything and everything.

Genji marveled at it, that they had spent years now seeing each other every day with little input from the outside world and it still felt as though there was no end of things to talk about. By turns their conversation grew light and full of laughter and heavy with laden feelings and sorrows. And then there were periods where the conversation lapsed to silence and that was comfortable too. 

Then Genji caught him looking up at the window, the sun starting to filter in golden with the waning hours, and heard him sigh softly. “Master?”

“Is it a clear day today?”

The ninja nodded, “It is.”

“A shame. I am sure the sunset will be lovely.”

Genji perked up, “We could go watch it?”

Zenyatta shook his head, “I am afraid I don’t think I am able. My body still feels weak,” He touched his chest, “I still feel a phantom pain here. Perhaps tomorrow?”

Genji frowned beneath the mask, “I could help you get out there?”

Zenyatta shook his head, “No, it is alright.”

His Master had said to care without coddling, that meant to think about his feelings about things, but if Genji knew Zenyatta—and he did—then the monk couldn’t always be trusted to be honest about his own feelings if he thought they were inconvenient for others. 

So Genji sighed and stood and Zenyatta’s shoulders wilted a bit, “Leaving so soon?”

“No, Master. We’re going to see the sunset.”

“I was serious when I said that—Genji no. Put me down—” Zenyatta flailed a little as Genji scooped him up in his arms, the metal body heavy but Genji’s augmented muscles were able to easily support his weight. The monk’s hands rested on Genji’s chest, shoulders scrunched up a bit, faint embarrassment writ through his form.

Genji’s own face was flushed beneath his mask, trying not to think about the fact that he was holding his Master bridal style, how intimate it felt, how much he _wanted_ it, having the Omnic in his arms, as he carried him out the threshold of his room instead of into it. As if the Omnic people didn’t have enough civil rights issues to worry about, let alone marriage. 

_Genji Shimada_ , he thought, _you have a serious problem_. 

But first, the sunset. 

“If you are going to insist—“

“I am, Master.”

“—then at least don’t take me out the main doors like this. Mondatta will never let me live this down.”

Genji grinned and carried him towards the larger window at the end of the hall, pushing it open with the hand slipped under Zenyatta’s knee-joints. “Of course, Master, whatever you wish.” He chuckled, watching as the Omnic’s orbs floated behind in a line like ducklings. 

“This was _not_ what I had in mind,” Zenyatta said flatly, arms sliding around Genji’s neck to hold on.

Genji laughed, hoping up on the sill, “You should’ve specified then!” And he leapt out, feet pushing off the wall with ease, arcing down the old stone of the monastery down towards the terrace below. The monk gasped and clung tighter, head tucking against Genji’s neck and the ninja had a fleeting sensation of what paradise must be.

Then he was landing on the overlook with nimble feet, and adjusted Zenyatta in his arms, “Nothing to worry about.”

Zenyatta sighed and patted Genji’s shoulder, “You are troublesome.”

“You do not mean that,” Genji walked them over to their favorite spot. He didn’t set the monk down though, selfishly keeping him in his arms. So much for ignoring his own feelings. He’d work harder on this lesson another time.

“I do not,” Zenyatta agreed.

The watched as the sun etched gold over the mountain peaks, the wind cooling as night fell.

“Genji?”

“Yes, Master?”

“Thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next update will be Thursday!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A game and a discussion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are incredible. As thanks for going over 50 comments, here's the next chapter a day early. 
> 
> Zenyatta's lessons in this chapter are a couple that are very near and dear to my heart, as they were both things I struggled with myself for a very long time.

True to his words, Zenyatta was nearly back to normal the next day. Genji had stayed with him as he went into sleep mode, and was still there when he woke up for early morning meditation. He couldn’t think of a sight he’d rather have seen to end his day and start another.

The two of them rarely spent their mornings together anymore. When Genji had been in need of daily instruction and guidance, a gentle hand and voice to call him back from dark thoughts and memories, they had been together from nearly dawn to dusk. 

These days Genji spent the mornings training and practicing, keeping his reflexes fighting fit and Zenyatta spent his with a class or two of young learners, teaching them as he had taught Genji. Then he would take some time to meditate and recenter himself, and then go find Genji in the early afternoons.

His earliest class was a group of young Omnics or lesser monks, learning from him about the truths of the Iris. It was a calm, pleasant way for him to begin his days, teaching those who wanted to learn. 

After that, three times a week he taught a class of human children from the village. The monastery used it as one of the ways they gave back to the humans living in the temple’s shadow, offering free instruction to their offspring of a much greater quality than they may have been able to receive otherwise.

He was one of the few who actually enjoyed it, some of the others finding the rambunctious human young taxing on their sense of peace and serenity. But to him it was rejuvenating, a tame reminder of how different the world could really be from their own solitude.

Zenyatta looked around his empty classroom. It was hard to teach when no one was there to listen.

Although he did have a suspicion. 

Trying to project his best aura of peace and serenity, Zenyatta left the monastery to head down to the village early. He passed a few women hanging their laundry, and when they spotted him they giggled and whispered. All but confirming his suspicions, he nodded politely at them as he passed. 

As he approached the village center he heard the sounds of children at play, laughing and screaming in enthusiasm, and saw more than one youngster rush by, running as though wolves were chasing them. But it was only another boy, who came rushing after and brightened when he saw him and ran over, “Master Zenyatta!”

He came to a stop before the Omnic and when Zenyatta bowed to him, only managing to get out “good morning—“ the boy reached up and slapped a hand right on his chest plate.

“Gotcha! Tag, you’re it!”

Zenyatta tilted his head, “Am I?”

The boy whispered, “I wanted to get Genji, but he’s too fast. So I got you. Sorry.”

The monk chuckled, “Ah, so you are something of an opportunist?”

The boy blinked, “I guess. No tag-backs though.”

“Of course not,” Zenyatta indulged, “It is always good to seize the opportunities life offers you.”

The child grinned, “I knew you’d get it!”

“However, it is not wise to forget one’s responsibilities in order to do so.”

He blinked and then his eyes widened, “Oh no! We forgot! Genji was just finally visiting and we wanted to play, and—“

Zenyatta held up a hand, “Peace, I am not angry with you. I was merely wondering where my class had gone. I had some idea who might be responsible.”

“It’s not Genji’s fault! Don’t be mad at him! We talked him into it.”

“I think it is my fault,” Genji said, dropping off the roof a building, nearly from nowhere, to land before the monk. “I am sorry, Master. I forgot they were due for class today.” He bowed his head, “I understand if you are cross with me.”

“I am not angry, Genji,” Zenyatta said, amusement radiating. “One day of fun when there should be learning will not bring their foundation of knowledge crashing down. But I would not make a habit of this.”

“Of course not, Master.”

“I would however ask that you accept the consequences of your actions.”

Genji tilted his head, and nodded, “Of course. Anything.” 

Zenyatta hummed and reached out laying a hand on the center of Genji’s chest plate and leaned in close. 

“M-Master?”

“Tag, Genji. You are it.”

\--

“You know, putting an orb of harmony on me to keep track of where I am is not a fair tactic, Master,” Genji said to him later as he ushered Zenyatta into his room. 

“I did not think I was playing fair,” the monk said, “I was playing smart.”

“It was _tag_.”

“As though I were any less competitive than you, my student. I can think of no other reason to scale buildings to flee from the grappling hands of children.”

“You’d be surprised, they can be vicious.”

Zenyatta watched as he went into the small kitchen to make tea, admiring him. He’d been a vision in the bright afternoon, the sunlight making him glitter and shimmer like some pale mountain spirit as he outran the children, leaping from rooftop to rooftop with a grace and agility that still mesmerized him to watch. 

“They are a devious bunch, while this is perhaps the first time they have collectively forgotten to come to class, they have tried things to make it more interesting.”

Genji laughed, “You told me about the time they brought in some of their mother’s clothes and tried to make you wear them.”

“Ah, yes. ‘Traditional Omnic garments from the south’ I believe they called them.” He hummed, remembering, “It would not have been so bad if they had not tried to insist on the wig as well.”

Genji laughed, steeping the tea with a well-practiced hand, “I had not heard about the wig.”

“I did not indulge them, which is probably why.”

Genji hummed softly and posed a question, “I wonder if things like that will become normal as the Omnic civil rights debate marches on.”

“Things like what?”

“Omnics disguising themselves, attempting to pass as human.”

Zenyatta hummed softly, “I had not thought about it, but I suppose I could see why some may wish to hide.”

“Covering their mechanical cores with silicon skin and false hair, wearing clothes, blending.” Genji continued, musing.

“I am not sure that there would be any facial movement doing such a thing, but it may be enough that violent humans would leave them alone. Though if Omnics begin to do this and there is a demand for it, then the technology will catch up. Though I certainly hope it will not.”

“Why is that?” Genji brought over their customary cups of tea, handing Zenyatta the same little mug he always used. 

“Because they are not human. They would only bring themselves spiritual hardship to avoid physical conflict.”

Genji chuckled, “We are completely speaking in hypotheticals, you know.”

“I know, but sometimes a good thought exercise is needed, and I am intrigued by the line of reasoning. I had not occurred to me before because I would never wish to be something other than I am.”

“You know, I have on occasion wondered what you would look like as a human,” Genji admitted. 

Zenyatta tilted his head, unsure how to take that, “Have you?” 

The cyborg shrugged, “You are very expressive with so little at your disposal to demonstrate your feelings. I had wondered if you would be much the same as a human or more visibly emotional. Expressing feelings is a matter rather close to me, as I have had to work harder to make my body language more noticeable if I want someone to pick up on cues without the help of facial expression, though I rarely have to try as hard for you.”

“I am rather curious to know what you think of this hypothetical, straddling the line between worlds, as it were.”

Genji made a soft sound, thoughtful and considering, and Zenyatta could tell by the tilt of his head and the cant of his shoulders he was giving it true consideration. The monk glowed with pride over his student’s progress, that there was no bristling or pain along the line of his back at the thought of what he was now, as there once had been. Genji truly had healed. 

“I think I agree with you. I miss being fully human still. Some days I can’t think past it,” he admitted softly, “but those days are rare now, and I would much rather appreciate what I am than get lost in the fantasy of what could never be.”

Zenyatta reached over and squeezed his arm, “I am _proud_ of you, Genji. I do not know if I say that enough.”

Genji ducked his head, Ah, that bashful look again. “You do not need to flatter me, Master.”

“It is not flattery if it is true,” Zenyatta countered. “And it is important to celebrate one’s successes.”

“I don’t know if I can count it a success when I am not quite there yet.”

Zenyatta moved his hand to tilt Genji’s head up, he wanted to make sure he had his attention, “It is good to be humble in your victories, but also to acknowledge them. Do not diminish all the work you’ve done, all the hardship you went through, because things are not perfect yet. You have come so far, and grown so much, and that is worth every word of praise. Celebrate your successes, Genji, you have earned it, and I will always celebrate with you.”

Genji fidgeted, flustered, “Your opinion has always meant the most to me. If you say that it is so then it must be.”

“But do you believe it?”

The cyborg hesitated, “I—“

“Your confidence in yourself still falters,” Zenyatta said quietly, “And it pains me, as you are the strongest, most capable soul I have ever met.”

“You’re trapped in a Monastery in rural Nepal,” Genji mumbled.

“I know an Omnic who discovered his own soul and founded a religion that is bringing an entire people out of an era of servitude and strife,” Zenyatta said evenly.

Genji made a soft airy sound, “Mondatta.”

Zenyatta nodded, “And yet, I would say you are stronger and more able than he. We disagree on a number of things, he and I, but the respect we have for one another is strong. When you are at your best, full of confidence and surety, you are like a second sun, Genji. You burn bright and warm, and those around you can only hope for the chance to bask in it. I am lucky that you shine on me as often as you do.”

Genji was rigid and choked out a soft exclamation, “Master—“

“Take off the mask,” Zenyatta murmured, “Please.”

He hesitated, and then reached up to delicately detach it. The face beneath was flushed emerald, and the brown eyes were wide in astonishment.

“Drink your tea,” Zenyatta said, voice warm. 

Genji held his cup and was quiet for a long moment. Then he laughed softly, his mouth twisting in a soft, wry grin, but Zenyatta didn’t miss the vulnerable look in those beautiful brown eyes. “Far different than when we met, hmm?”

Zenyatta hummed, indulgent. They had been over this many times over the years, but occasionally, when Genji was feeling vulnerable, torn open and raw feeling exposed, they went over it again, like a child hearing their favorite story. Genji was childlike in some ways still. Mischievous and cheeky and enthusiastic, Zenyatta mourned for a youth Genji had not gotten to live completely. He never discounted the power of a fond memory. “For as often as you worry about me freezing in the cold, you are the only one of us that actually has.”

Genji laughed, the sound warm and real as he relaxed again, “I know, I know. I was very lucky. And that was less about the cold and more about the bullets lodged into my spinal flux. That I made it that far into the mountains still surprises me.”

“I hadn’t believed the villagers when they came to the temple, claiming they’d found an Omnic broken and frozen out on the road.” Zenyatta shook his head, “You were like nothing any of us had seen before. We had no idea what to do with you.”

“I didn’t either.”

“I remember, you tried to kill me.” 

“I didn’t try to _kill_ you,” Genji hedged, “I just… woke up in a strange place and was a little uncertain.”

“You grabbed me and put your katana to my neck,” Zenyatta said, laughing.

“I was _very_ uncertain!” Genji sputtered, “And I don’t remember you being mad about it then, either.”

“Of course not. I knew better but I was so curious about you.”

“You drove me _crazy_.” Genji groaned, but his smile was something extraordinary. “You just kept showing up and talking circles around me and asking about things I didn’t want to talk about.” He shook his head, chuckling, “I agreed to let you teach me mostly to get you to stop badgering me. I figured I would be here a few weeks and then would leave.”

“Three years later,” Zenyatta chuckled.

“Three years later,” Genji agreed, laughing softly. 

“When we brought you into the temple we were just lucky many of your cybernetics were advanced enough to heal themselves once we—excuse me, once you _let us_ —dig the bullets out.” Zenyatta shook his head, “We didn’t have the right tools to repair such advanced robotics.”

“What I get for picking fights with the wrong sort. You work with a team long enough that you forget how to work on your own.”

Zenyatta hummed softly, “But you’re not alone now.”

“I know,” Genji smiled over his mug of tea, “It took me a long time to understand that. Longer than I want to admit.”

“One cannot truly embrace change unless they want it,” Zenyatta said, “And whatever reason you told yourself or excuse you made, something within your soul resonated here. Change is frightening. It is difficult, and stress-inducing, and uncomfortable, and most talk themselves out of it before they may even try. But I am glad you did.”

“So am I,” Genji said. “I don’t know if I thank you enough. What you’ve done for me—“

Zenyatta held up his hand, hearing thanks from Genji for the peace he’d earned always sounded like an ending. “All I did was offer you support. I cannot take credit for what you did for yourself.”

Genji bit his lip, the gesture uncertain and nervous, and Zenyatta was always somehow mesmerized at the way his organic mouth moved. “Master, I…” he began and shook his head, “Never mind. It is nothing.”

“You can tell me anything, Genji.”

He smiled again, that fragile, wry expression, “I know, Master. I know,” but he said nothing more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A chapter less exciting than the last one, but one Genji needed. Poor baby.
> 
> I might do a one-shot story at the end of this one about how they met. I've got a pretty clear idea how that went down. Hint: Genji had no chill.
> 
> Next update will be on Saturday!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tragedy can strike when you least expect it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your amazing comments. I can't believe how many of you did after that boring-ass chapter.
> 
> I was very nervous about posting this chapter. So to everyone who has commented saying they love how sweet and fluffy this is, and I had several wonderful readers even call it 'a balm to their soul', I'm sorry.

Most bad days began the same as the good ones. Even the worst ones may start with the sun shining down, a gentle hibernation period, and the expectation of a good day.

Even the worst days may start off with life at peace. 

The next day every student of his in the village showed up at the monastery for an impromptu lesson, feeling bad for missing one the day previous. He’d been so touched by their gesture he’d forgone his usual morning meditation, gesturing them into the main chamber to sit while he covered the topics he’d intended to teach yesterday. 

He had just started teaching them about the earth, telling them about the tectonic plate of India colliding with the Eurasian plate, and how this was making their own Himalayan range rise at a rate of about 8 millimeters per year when another of the Shambali ran in, form jittering and frantic.

“Kaiyatta, what brings you to my class,” he asked, keeping his voice even, realizing something was wrong and trying not to alarm the children. 

But Kaiyatta shook her head and gestured to the door, “Zenyatta—something is wrong! There is smoke from the village, it burns!”

The children reacted as one might expect, a flurry of fear, some of the younger bursting into tears at the mention. A sudden influx of frightened questions, if their families were alright, if their homes were still there. Zenyatta would admit to a pulse of worry of his own coursing through his wires, but he remembered that at least for whatever happened that Genji was not in the village this morning, he’d gone out to explore some of the peaks nearby, training his agility and strength on the shifting face of the mountains. “Remain calm,” he instructed, “And remain here. Please stay seated and wait for my return. Kaiyatta, stay with them. Does Mondatta know?”

The other monk nodded, Zenyatta was stronger and older and she was happy to pass the responsibility along. “I will, I promise you. Children, stay with me now, I will keep you safe. As for Mondatta I couldn’t say, I think he’s still meditating in his chamber—”

Zenyatta nodded, “If you see another Shambali send them to inform him, send him to help, but do not leave the children.”

“I will,” Kaiyatta told him.

He kept his pace calm when he moved to the main doors of the temple but hurried when he was beyond and out of sight, stepping out onto the main walk. The sun was over-bright, and the pale stones of the temple and the statuary reflected almost too strongly, confusing several of his visual sensors. 

Columns of gray smoke rose from the village, forming one large pillar in the sky. He couldn’t hear anything, any sounds of people but it was a decent walk to get there, and the way the wind moved through the peaks confused sound more often than not. 

A dull hum met his ears, but he couldn’t distinguish the noise, could not pinpoint it or identify it. He hurried onward. He was not much of a runner, not expressly built for mobile speed, not maintained for it at any rate, but he hurried all he could. He hoped Genji would see the smoke from where he was. They needed him now, needed help. He would be able to safely pull villagers from burning buildings, could get people to safety. 

He heard a sharp _ratatattat_ of automatic gunfire, barely a popping over the mountains, but knew it immediately, and his systems coursed with fear. It was not an accident.

They had been attacked.

Questions and doubts marched through his processors, and he categorized and reasoned through what he could in moments. No one would attack a poor village of Nepalese who had no wealth and little to their names. The only way to reach the temple from the road in was through the village. The villagers were loyal and adored the Shambali. They would stand up to invaders even if things were unwise.

Whoever was here had likely come for the monastery. There were children in the temple. His brothers and sisters were there, nearly defenseless.

He reached the end of the walk, slowing as he heard voices—unfamiliar voices, and came to a stop. Omnic energy rushed through him, his orbs lighting and spinning to rapid orbit. He took a step up, settling into a hover, legs bending. The lights on his crown grew brighter, pulsing with leashed energy. 

He would stop them here, he had to. 

He heard shouting and raucous unfamiliar laughter coming up the road and waited, palms folded before him, mimicking the statuary of the monastery. He would be ready for them. He saw them before they saw him—seven of them, dressed in black with cheap weapons, three had assault rifles, the other four had sawed off shotguns, ugly, mutt-like guns. He recognized the emblem on their sleeves, a Chinese anti-Omnic force. 

They did not receive much in the way of news from the outside, but even the monks at the monastery had heard of how this group and others like it had been growing increasingly militant as the second Omnic Crisis churned against their push for civil rights. 

He supposed this was the risk that came with more and more seeking out the Shambali for help—others on the opposite end of the spectrum began to take notice as well. 

The man in the lead spotted him and gestured with his weapon, laughing, saying something to his fellows in Chinese that Zenyatta’s translation software did not pick up at the distance. They raised their weapons to ready, trained on him. The man who’d spotted him first kept his rifle up over his shoulder. 

“So what do you think you are?” he spat at Zenyatta when they drew closer, and the monk heard the click of weapons arming. “Think you’re going to stop us from getting by?”

“Please depart this place,” Zenyatta said calmly, “Turn around and leave the monastery and the village and do not return. I do not wish to have to harm you.”

They laughed, not taking his words seriously, as he feared they would not. He remembered what he’d said to Genji. He would fight, though it was not his first choice to do so. 

“I don’t think so.” The weapon came off his shoulder, and he armed it, “We’re pretty sick and tired of the Omnics we’re putting down spouting nonsense they picked up from you. So we’re going to dig this little problem out at the root.”

“I am sorry to hear that,” Zenyatta said, and meant it. Then his arms swung forward, palms pushing out, firing two orbs in quick succession, the first smashing into one of the attacker’s faces, felling him. The second struck another square on the chest and dropped him but didn’t finish him and he lurched around, collecting himself.

The others fired and Zenyatta weaved hard to the right, backing up slowly, trying to avoid the gunfire. His Omnic orbs whirled around him like a storm and absorbed some of the shots, but they took a moment to recharge again—too many strikes and they might get through, would start to punch holes through his machinery.

He loosed an orb of discord that brought another to their knees, overcome with darkness and a second hard shot of destruction against their head left them dead or near it. He felt neither joy nor remorse in it. 

Another burst of fire had his orbs struggling to keep him shielded and he fired three pulses of energy wildly into their midst, not designed to strike but to make them cease. 

But little by little, they pushed him back. 

He sent another orb of discord, let it stay and sow its discontent, before recalling it, sending another, trying to bring each of them down. He flexed his energy, recharging the power in his orbs.

There were seven men, two were down, four were left, where had the last one—

Someone rushed, spraying fire, screaming at him and he shielded his face with his arms, catching shots against his forearms and shoulders, some punching through his the shield his Omnic orbs made. A bullet embedded in his wrist and his motor function in his left hand dropped to nearly nothing, the appendage limp and useless.

Five orbs charged power for precious seconds and he fired them all in a scattering burst, smashing into two men, felling one of them for good, narrowly missing a third. Four were left but he saw only three, where was—

Close he was so close, he could finish this—

“Hey, Omnic!” 

A voice behind him and he whirled, orbs vibrating ready to defend himself and stopped cold. 

The last man, the one he’d been missing stood behind him, Goral, one of the village boys—he must’ve snuck out, somehow followed, only scared and wanting to know—clutched in one of his hands, gripping the boy with a tight hold in the hair at the back of his head, shotgun pointed at his face. “Maybe you want to leave my friends alone?”

His gaze flickered between Goral and the attacker, computations of risk running through him.

An orb of harmony would not save a child from a shotgun blast. An orb of discord followed by an orb of destruction was no guarantee that the assailant wouldn’t get a shot off or prompt one in accident. He could not pass into the Iris fast enough to save him and offer healing, and it would not be enough to stop a gunshot and not from point blank. Stopping would offer only a chance to keep the boy safe. The only chance.

His orbs slowed and he stepped out of the air, settling on the stone terrace, one working hand clenched into a fist, watching him, aware he may be shot from behind at any moment. He heasrd the others move up behind him, weapons armed. There was nothing he could do. 

“You fucking killer,” the man snarled, jerking the child around by his hair, Goral crying silently, scared to make a sound, “I knew you damn bots were shit. All of you deserve to be smashed up into scrap and recycled into sewage pipes. You deserve _nothing_ , and I’m gonna leave you as _nothing_.”

“If I cooperate will you let the boy go unharmed?” Zenyatta asked. Already, he knew how this would end. Knew it could only end now with the Iris’s eternal embrace. If no opportunity to turn this situation presented itself, then he wanted to be sure at least that the boy would survive. It was all he could offer right now. His own safety was second.

He did not fear the plunge into the dark of oblivion for he knew there was light at the other side, did not fear the end of his life for his own sake. He feared the shadow his passing might cast on others. _Genji, I’m so sorry, I did not wish to leave you. Not like this_.

The attacker sneered at him, marching over, dragging the boy by his hair and the child cried out involuntarily. “We aren’t the monsters here. We didn’t come to kill smart humans, just Omnics and the humans who’re too fucking stupid to understand why you’re shit. This boy here is young, can still be saved.” He shook Goral by his hair to make his point.

Zenyatta looked down at the small child’s crying face, red and smeared with tears, small heart hammering in fear. 

Yes, if this was where his life should end, he would be satisfied if only he could make sure the child was fine. 

“Release him then, I will not move,” If they could just give him an opening—

“What, you think we’re stupid?” He drags the boy closer and grins, a cruel slant to his mouth, standing right before Zenyatta, barrel pressed against Goral’s temple. At this distance Zenyatta could see yellowed teeth, pocked skin, and the whites of the man’s cruel brown eyes. “No, you’re not getting any kind of chance. Maybe we’ll release the boy, but we’re gonna kill every last bucket of bolts we find. And you? Well you’ll never know.”

Before Zenyatta could react shotgun whipped up, pressed into his chest plate—

Fired—

_Once, twice—_

Zenyatta had wondered sometimes if the sort of unpleasant sensation he felt when a part of his body broke could be called pain. If the discomfort was akin to being hurt. He could only imagine it was not nearly as pronounced as what an organic might feel. 

_Pain_ shattered through his chest and he felt the pistons that moved his limbs shattering, internal systems fracturing, punched through with shrapnel. He cried out, the sound broken as his voice box splintered and cracked, distorting the sound. 

He fell, collapsing in a heap on the ground, orbs rolling away uselessly, disconnected from him, he could not rise, his limbs did not work, he reached for the Iris but his systems fired warnings and he could not _focus_ —

There was a dull roaring he heard, getting louder, he thought his auditory sensors were ruptured—

The sound resolved into an anguished scream—his name, he realized, it was _his name_ —and the attacker’s head split from his shoulders as the Dragonblade swung down, green glittering afterimage roaring for blood, Genji’s lights blazing like fire. 

His chronometers were littered with shrapnel, and time blurred and skipped. He heard gunfire and screaming.

Zenyatta could feel his internal systems shutting down rapidly, one by one, his CPU offlining all unnecessary operations first, trying to quarantine the issues, route power to only necessary systems, but the damage was bad, and more and more went offline. He knew how this would end. His body was failing.

The last thing to shut down would be his A.I., trapped in his broken form, no senses online. Alone and dark. 

But not yet, he heard his name again, he thought—

“—aster! _Master!”_

Genji fell beside him, Dragonblade dropped carelessly against the stone—he was stained red, so red, blood splattered him everywhere, no green, thank the Iris, no green—hands scrabbling and gasping at his broken body, unsure what to touch where to touch— “No. Master. No, no, no. Please, no. Zenyatta, no _please_. Don’t leave me!”

Zenyatta’s heart broke and he tried to reach back, his right hand had just enough mobility left that he lifted it, fingers grazing against the metal of his faceplate, able to reach no higher.

With a choked cry, Genji tore the mask off, clutching Zenyatta’s hand pressing it against his cheek, hand clutching hard enough to stress the joints. Tears poured down the cyborg’s face, those lovely eyes wide and frightened. “Don’t leave me, Zenyatta, don’t leave me alone—“

“Gennnjjjjj—“ his voice box tried, but something was wrong, metal lodged where it shouldn’t be, and the sound warbled, incomplete. His vision wavered, internal warnings flashing from all sides. He had only moments, he struggled, he had to— “Goodbyyyyyy—“

“No! No no. Please, Master!” His free hand, shaking, cupped Zenyatta’s head, bringing their foreheads together, tears splashing against the monk’s face, “I can’t lose you!”

There was a strange sensation, and the last of his sensors failed, and Zenyatta’s world faded—

—and went dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone's still with me, I'll see you on Tuesday.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genji waits on many things, and learns a very important lesson about himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoa. 52 comments. I think I broke some people. Sorry not sorry? 
> 
> For your pain I'm getting this up before I head to work instead of after.

Genji paced a slow line back and forth across the road before the entrance to the village. Stalking one way, and then turning and heading back. 

He glanced at the small town occasionally. In that respect at least, things could’ve been so much worse. Only a few had actually tried to stand up for the temple, the rest had stayed in their homes. It had been an opportunity for the attackers to set a few fires, but the loss of life, while tragic, had been minimal. It was a small miracle Genji was grateful for.

Rebuilding was going well, those few casualties had been offered their sky burials, laid to a peaceful rest. No homes had burned in their entirety, the Himalayas not having enough trees for all-wood buildings. All the damage had been torn down and most were nearly finished being reconstructed, a group effort by the healing village. It had taken two weeks, but life was getting back to normal. For some.

But mostly the green shimmer of his visor was locked on the ground, watching one foot step before the other. His hands were behind his back, left hand holding his right wrist, and within his right hand—

His fingers tightened around a hand-carved Omnic orb. He was never without it anymore.

_Where the hell was he? He was supposed to arrive this morning._

Worries marched through his head, everything that could go wrong churning up one new scenario after another. Zenyatta had often preached letting the world break over him like water. Good and bad would come and Genji would not be able to stop it. There was no point in worrying, only in acting and dealing with what life brought your way. 

But Zenyatta wasn’t _here_ , and—

He shook, hand tightening further on the orb. Two weeks and it still felt fresh. How could he hurt this much and not be dying? It was worse in some ways than when Hanzo had tried to kill him. He woke in a body that was more machine than flesh and the physical pain was gone. 

This phantom pain lingered in his chest and continued, weeks on end of waking up in hell. 

His Master would be disappointed if he could see him now, he knew, disappointed that his lessons about healing and peace were so easily set aside. 

But Zenyatta wasn’t here, so he couldn’t—couldn’t—

His head shot up, auditory sensors picking up a faint sound from down the road, and sure enough he saw a cart approaching along the treacherous track up the mountain. He spotted a bit of red at the back and _hoped_. 

The cart drew up the path with agonizing slowness, but eventually it pulled up to pass through the gate, the driver greeting Genji with a tired wave, that he returned halfheartedly, having eyes only for the figure at the back. 

“You made it. I was not sure if you would.”

Torbjörn Lindholm slid off the back of the wagon and onto the ground, giving Genji a dark look from his one eye, “I wasn’t sure either. What a miserable trip. I can’t believe you brought me here.”

“You owed me a favor. I called it in.”

The Swede waved it off, “Yeah, and I’m here. But of all places, you surface from being clean off the grid at an _Omnic monastery?_ ”

“It has been good for me. Come, we need to go to the temple, so we have a bit of a walk.”

Torbjörn groaned, “Oh good, because that’s just what my back needs after riding in a rickety cart for three days. A mountain hike.”

\--

Genji asked him polite questions about their old team members, if he’d heard anything from them, and Torbjörn told him bits of news from Reinhardt and McCree and Dr. Ziegler. The cyborg half listened, and soon they were making their way through the main walk towards the monastery, the Omnic statuary hovering around them as they passed.

Torbjörn shuddered, “God, it’s like somethin’ out of my worst nightmares.”

“Be respectful,” Genji said shortly, “They are peaceful here.”

“All Omnics were peaceful when they were made and we know how that’s turnin’ out,” Torbjörn grouched, but followed, watching the looming statuary nervously. Genji didn’t bother to respond. 

He led Torbjörn inside, pleased when they passed two Omnics who bowed respectfully, that the engineer didn’t say anything scathing, and merely waved with a mild look of distaste. They passed through the main area and headed back to the hall where the Omnic monks kept their rooms. One room had the curtain drawn closed, and Genji took a deep breath before pulling it open and ushering Torbjörn inside. 

He’d been here every day since it happened. Spending more hours in this space than anywhere else. It still felt like a punch in the chest each time he stepped inside.

Zenyatta was laid on a woven mat the other monks had offered, his battered body arranged almost peacefully, his pants and sashes folded in the corner. Genji had gathered every last broken part and fragment his enhanced eyesight could find from the terrace, kept every little piece of his Master together, afraid to lose even the smallest bit. The Omnic orbs were arranged in a basket near his head, minus the one Genji carried with him, and near them were all the things the village children had left for him, thanking him, hoping he came back. Feathers and pretty stones, hand written cards, toys, the few treasures they had in their small lives.

It hurt, seeing that beloved body like this, torn apart, punched through with holes, those beautiful blue lights dark and dead. It hurt so much. 

Torbjörn swore softly, looking over the damage as he stepped inside. “You weren’t kiddin’. This thing’s a mess.”

“ _He_ was badly damaged saving a child and stopping an attack that would have potentially killed everyone here,” Genji seethed at him. “Show some respect.” 

Torbjörn snorted, “Respect for the dead, more like.”

Genji flushed with cold and it felt like he couldn’t breathe, “You mean you can’t—?”

The Swede sighed and shrugged, “If he deactivated I might not be able to do much,” he said, a note of apology in his voice. 

“He has not!” Genji said quickly, “Master—he told me that if his main drive were disconnected it would activate his black box feature, that it might preserve him. He was…” Genji faltered, the memories still fresh and painful, “He was _dying_ in my arms and I was selfish, I could not… could not _lose_ him. So I pulled the plug.” His hands fisted, visor locked on Torbjörn, “Could it have worked?”

Torbjörn made a thoughtful sound, moving in and delicately lifting the monk’s head to the side, the main red wire, so familiar from the back of his Master’s crown, hanging loose. Genji’s hands fisting tighter, watching. “So ya did. No tellin’ now if it was in time, but well, better than nothin’.”

“So you will do it?” Genji said, heart pounding, “You will repair him?”

Torbjörn sighed, “I’ll do my best.”

\--

Genji sat silently by as Torbjörn first assessed the damage, making detailed notes and maps of every hole, fracture, crack, puncture, broken wire, malfunctioning electronic, severed line, and dead chip. It took hours, the sun setting as the afternoon wore thin and evening set in. But Torbjörn was thorough with it, treated every piece delicately and kept track of every shard and fragment.

For all Torbjörn’s vitriol about Omnics, Genji was incredibly grateful for him; he probably the only man alive he could count on to do this.

To repair Zenyatta.

Eventually it grew dark, and though Genji lit candles, it was not nearly enough light to see all the intricate damage the blasts had wrought. He showed Torbjörn back down to the village, and to the home of Goral’s family, so grateful were they to Master Zenyatta that they accepted the Swede in as a guest. Genji had considered letting him stay in his room, but so much of himself was on bold display he did not want to share it just yet. So he told Torbjörn he’d be back in the morning, and left to let the tired engineer sleep.

He returned to the monastery. He’d spent every night since the attack in its walls. His feet taking him back to Zenyatta’s room. He’d spent many nights there even before, his master’s presence always a balm to his soul, trusting the monk in unconsciousness as well as consciousness. 

He had brought a small burner in, and set about heating a teapot and steeping tea. When it was finished, he poured two cups. One he kept, and the other he set on the floor at his master’s side. The faceplate came off and he sipped it slowly. 

“I think I figured it out, you know,” he said quietly. “All this time without you has given me a lot of time to think, and I know I mostly tell you nonsense you cannot hear, but this was something I wanted to share with you. Such as it is.” He set his teacup down and fisted his hands in his lap, “You were always looking for more to teach me, more lessons you thought might help me, and it always seemed like you had more wisdom to impart, even when I least expected it.” 

Hesitantly he reached out and took Zenyatta’s hand, the one without the bullet buried in the ball bearing of his wrist. “You have taught me something even with this.” Slowly his thumb traced over the metal components of his hand. Cold, it was cold where it had always before been warm. “I learned something about myself. You always told me I had violence within me, and that I could not bury it, should not seek to do so. I didn’t understand until that day. I wanted so much for peace of mind and heart to mean peace of body too. I didn’t want to stop fighting so much as I wanted to _want_ to stop fighting. But you knew I could not. You always knew when it came to me.”

He brought the hand up to his mouth and kissed the limp knuckles. “I learned that day what you meant, but more than that I learned why you said those things. Why you thought it was alright for me to fight.” He bowed his head, bringing the knuckles to his forehead, “I killed those men. I _slaughtered_ them. I left them all in pieces smaller than a corpse for a sky burial. My anger and my pain knew no limits, seeing you like that. Seeing you broken. I forgave Hanzo for killing me, but I do not think I can ever forgive those men for this.” His breath hitched, “I should’ve been there. I saw the smoke, I tried to rush back, I _tried_ and I got back in time just to see you—see you—“ 

His voice cracked and he took a few moments just to breathe. “I understand though. It is fine for me to fight because I fight for what I care about. I’m sure you would have choice words for me about my level violence,” he managed a watery smile, “But in stopping them I saved Goral, I saved the monks and children in the monastery. My violence is a tool at my disposal.” He moved Zenyatta’s limp hand to his cheek, “It is up to me how I use it. I can use it for good or for ill.”

He grew quiet for a long moment, “I learned too the depth of my own feelings. It is one thing to know you are in love in the happy moments, in shared smiles and laughs and quiet hours together, in calm and peace without threat. It is another to feel it in the sad moments. When I am alone, in the times of misery, when you aren’t sure if you’re ever going to see the other again. I did not understand the true breadth and depth of my own feelings before, but I do now. I love you. I love you with all that I am, and I do not think I will ever stop.” 

He took a slow breath. “Perhaps learning this lesson means I have failed as your student, but I do not care. I want nothing more than for you to light up, come to _life_ and tell me that I am a disappointment and I will weep and lay myself at your feet if only you were here with me.”

He leaned back and placed a kiss on the metal knuckles once more, “But you also told me to have faith, faith in myself and faith in others, so now I have to believe that you can be fixed. That you can come back to me, so I’ll believe in that. I’ll believe in that with everything I have.”

\--

Torbjörn was back at it the next day and finished cataloging every point of damage on Zenyatta’s body. He looked over his pages and pages of notes, repair maps he’d sketched on graph paper, and after reassessing all his thoughts, he set to work. 

But the first step was horrible. 

If seeing Zenyatta battered and broken was heartbreaking, then seeing him almost completely disassembled was terrifying. 

Torbjörn took him apart down to almost each and every bolt, keeping everything categorized, keeping his part and placement maps updated constantly. But it was almost more than Genji could deal with, seeing his beloved master broken down so.

“Here,” Torbjörn said and handed him the plate that was etched into his Master’s distinctive face and Genji nearly sobbed, “you’re about to have a fit, I can tell. So look at that for awhile since you’re so fond it.”

“ _Him_ ,” Genji insisted, but his voice was unsteady and he clutched it tightly. 

Torbjörn snorted and wrapped up a set of drives in protective casing and set those before him as well, “Probably shouldn’t touch those too much, but I wanted you to see them.”

“What are they?” Genji asked, holding Zenyatta’s face tightly. 

“That’s pretty much everythin’ your robot is,” Torbjörn explained, “All his data, err…. Memories I guess are stored there.” He looked uncomfortable, “Everything he thinks and, ugh, _feels_ is there. It’s a little like his brain. It’s the core of his A.I.”

“’True Self is Without Form,” Genji intoned, murmuring with reverence.

“Eh?”

“The Shambali believe they have souls. If master Zenyatta's soul is anywhere… that’s where it’ll be.” He reached out, drawing a finger down the case reverently.

Torbjörn looked doubtful, but went on, “They’re in fairly good shape, considerin’ how much of him got mulched by that shotgun blast. There’s a fairly good chance we can boot him from those.”

Genji’s breath caught, “And he’ll be okay? He’ll be alive? The same?”

“Likely be the first two, near as I can tell just yet,” Torbjörn said, “As for the last one, well. I’d say it’s probable but there’s really no tellin’. Machines react differently to trauma just like people, and there’s no way to be sure sometimes how machines as advanced as Omnics will react with their A.I.”

Genji nodded, “Alright. Do whatever you have to.”

Torbjörn nodded, “Will do, lad. Just trust me to do it. Don’t sit there looking like you’re moments from bein’ sick.”

“I won’t. I will be fine,” He squared his shoulders, “I will help however I can. Let’s bring him back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See ya Friday! We are over the hump!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genji rejects a teaching moment, but learns a little something anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have you HEARD the news? In the same patch Ana comes out they are buffing the everloving shit out of our dearest little paper robot. Zen is gonna be an absolute machine (ha) come next patch, and I for one cannot wait to go ham and swiss on some kids.

It took nearly another week and a half to rebuild Zenyatta. Torbjörn did most of it, Genji oversaw, passing parts and tools as the inventor called for them. The Swede did a lot of work fabricating replacement parts with the forger on his left arm and his forge hammer. He welded fractures and cracks and sanded them smooth, rewired entire systems.

Bit by bit, bolt by bolt, he rebuilt Zenyatta from the ground up. Genji held onto the Omnic orb as well as the faceplate during this time, and when he woke from his brief hibernation periods in Zenyatta’s room, it brought him some small comfort for the faceplate of the monk to be the first thing he saw. 

Other monks stopped in to see, curious and hopeful, and many offered their gratitude and appreciation for Torbjörn’s work, some even asking if he wouldn’t mind making small repairs on others once he was finished with Zenyatta and before he departed. The whole thing made him entirely uncomfortable, but the icing on the cake had to be when Mondatta himself stopped in to observe him at work. The glittering, golden monk stepped inside to watch as the Swede worked, and said nothing. 

Mondatta had been harboring his own private guilt, Genji knew, and he was somewhat used to the Omnic leader’s careful economy of words, but Torbjörn seemed incredibly off-put by the whole thing until Mondatta said simply, “thank you for working well amidst your own disdain. We are grateful for the gift you give here,” and left. 

By the end of the first full week Zenyatta was almost completely reconstructed physically, but Torbjörn had to make sure everything was connected properly, all the moving parts interacting the way they needed to. They made sure the cells that powered his body held charge reliably and that energy flowed to all parts of his body as intended. It was days of back-to-back of testing and minor repairs, but Genji was grateful for it. He wanted his Master back. Every last detail.

And then, on the tenth day, he was finished and Torbjörn held out his hand for the faceplate, the last piece to go on. Genji shook his head and moved over, placing it on until it clicked into place himself, trying to think only of how they were almost done—anything other than tenth day, tenth dot—and then sat back and waited. 

Zenyatta looked pristine, as though he’d never been damaged in the first place. Better than new in some cases, and his chrome glittered in the sun through the window, the gold shimmering before the candlelight. 

“Is he done?” Genji asked hesitantly.

Torbjörn nodded, “Aye. Gonna activate the cell powering him, and then it’ll take a bit a’ time for him to boot back up. Maybe about an hour. He’s a complex machine, it’s a little more complicated than coming out of sleep-mode. And since this’ll be the first boot-up, there’s plenty of system checks his CPU is gonna go through first. You’ll have to give him a little time.”

Genji nodded, nearly vibrating with anxiety and anticipation, “I will wait as long as I have to.” 

Torbjörn nodded and patted his arm, “I know, lad. Ready?”

“Yes, please.”

Torbjörn reached down and reconnected the main wire to the drives in his cranium, and twisted to lock. “I’ll leave you here. If there’s a problem come find me,” and then he stood and left, leaving Genji alone with his Master.

The cyborg held his breath and waited. 

A slow hum built, that same sound his master always made, the gentle sound of his body working and Genji nearly wept. Sensors along the monk’s body lit slowly, and there was the soft, muted sound of drives and parts clicking together, working as a whole. It was as beautiful as music. 

Long minutes passed, Genji’s chronometers telling him forty-eight had gone by before the most amazing thing happened.

The orb in his hand lit _up_.

One by one, the lights on his head blinked on, glowing steady blue, the orbs within the basket lighting to match, and Genji wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry, letting go of the orb he held as it floated up with the others, starting a slow horizontal orbit over the monk’s body. 

He held his breath, waiting to see, but for a long moment there was nothing and anxiety knotted in Genji’s gut, but then—

The beautiful, familiar face turned to face him—he was _alive_ , he was _on_ —but said nothing.

Genji waited, tense, afraid to break the silence as they stared at one another. What if the drives had been damaged? Wiped somehow? What if—

“Genji?”

And Genji did shed a few tears, hearing his Master’s voice say his name and pitched forward, “Master!” He picked him up and hugged him tight to his chest, never mind that it was rude, that he’d just come back from the brink of death, that he’d been offline for so long—

“Genji,” He heard Zenyatta murmur, and felt his arms go around him and the cyborg held tighter, clinging, needing this more than he needed to breathe, the Omnic orbs orbiting around the two of them. “I had a terrible dream, my student,” He murmured, voice slow, the processor still calibrating. “But perhaps it was not a dream?”

For an instant Genji wanted to correct him, let it think it was, to never remember this whole ordeal. But the other Omnics would likely tell him and the monk wouldn’t want to forget just because of hardship. He knew Zenyatta. “Not a dream, I’m afraid.”

Zenyatta’s head tilted against where Genji had it pressed to his collar and his first question was unsurprising, “And you are well? Goral? The children and the other monks?”

Genji nodded, a laugh bubbling within him. Alive, he was alive! “Yes, yes, yes, and yes. Everyone is fine. You held them until I arrived, and I finished things.” 

“Wonderful,” Something in that rigid metal body seemed to relax, knowing all was well. “How long has it been? I feel as though I was offline for a strange amount of time. I can’t quite seem to process—“

“It has been three and a half weeks, Master,” Genji murmured. “You were… you were _dying_ so I did like you said and unplugged your main wire.”

Of all things Zenyatta chuckled, the sound warbling a bit as the processor caught up, “I should have known you would listen. That you would remember everything I said.” He tilted his head, considering, “How am I here now then? You repaired me?”

“A friend from my Overwatch days. He repaired you. I will let you meet him later, but I do not think I wish to let go yet.”

Zenyatta chuckled again, “I feel well, Genji.”

“I do not care. I do not wish to coddle you, but I just… I need to be sure for a moment.”

The monk hummed softly, the sound so perfect and familiar and let his student hold him. “Take all the time you require.” He was quiet another moment before he asked, “Will you remove the mask for me?”

Genji laughed hoarsely and reached up, disconnecting the faceplate, his own scarred, warped face wet with tears but smiling wide enough that it _hurt_. Zenyatta made a soft sound and reached up, gentle always so gentle, mechanical fingers wiping away the wetness to his cheeks. “That humans cry when they are happy has always confounded me, Genji, have I ever told you?”

And Genji laughed, fresh tears spilling as if to illustrate his Master’s words. “No, I do not think you have.”

“Were it up to me to decide, you should only smile.”

Genji grinned, bright and undiluted, “Fortunately, you bring it out best.”

“I am gratified to hear that,” Zenyatta went quiet, humming softly in contentment for a moment before he asked, “Genji, where are my pants?”

And Genji laughed and laughed even as his face blushed emerald.

\--

Genji averted his eyes politely when Zenyatta dressed, a faint hint of heat to his cheeks. He stood nearby to help the wobbly Omnic should he topple, hand on his elbow, but stared determinedly at the wall. His master may have been nude these weeks but it wasn’t as though he was able to admire him, broken and disassembled during that time. 

It had been strange at first, falling in love with someone who wasn’t organic. Someone who didn’t have smooth flesh and appealing curves that he’d chased nearly constantly in his youth. At first and for that reason, he’d thought it was a platonic love. He’d thought so for a long time. 

And then one day he realized that when he looked upon his Master, meditating in the Himalayan sun, he wasn’t just appreciating the aesthetic of the glint of the light along his metal form, or the blue color of the lights on his crown.

He wondered what it would feel like, running sensitive lips over all the curves and angles of his jaw, pressing deep kisses to the mouth-like seam of his faceplate, if his chrome would fog next to his mouth as he panted against him, what that soothing voice, like deep calm waters, sounded like if it were to tremble with feeling. He wondered if those lovely blue lights would burn brighter if his Master was in the throes of ecstasy, if they would flash white-hot as he reached his climax and dim after he calmed.

Genji’s face tinged greener and he kept his gaze firmly away from temptation.

One day he’d realized he was sexually aroused by his Omnic teacher, and that these thoughts were not all that unfamiliar. He wondered how long it had been stewing within him, and could be neither surprised nor disgusted. 

He just thought Zenyatta was beautiful.

“Thank you, I am finished,” his Master was saying, patting his arm gently so he could turn around. “How do I look?”

Genji turned and found him, looking just like he always did, worn pants and wraps at his waist. Were it not for the few pieces that were pristine and new on him against the more worn metal of the intact parts they’d kept, it would’ve been as though no time had passed. “Good as new, Master.”

Zenyatta chuckled, the sound warbling less and less every time. “I haven’t felt this uncoordinated since I left the Omnium, like I’m brand new all over again. I hope I don’t have to start over on birthdays.”

Genji chuckled slightly, “I don’t think you need to worry about that. I am just as happy to pretend this all never happened. Even though you’ve lived, came out fine… I never want to think of it again,” he shook his head.

“Our hardships and flaws are just as integral to our person as our victories and strengths,” Zenyatta said gently.

Genji laughed and shook his head wildly, “No! Please, Master, I do not think I could handle it if you turn this into a teaching moment too.” His expression sobered and he said softly, “I will have nightmares about this, Master. I already do. Just this once, let me take this happy memory, right here, right now, with you, and forget the bad. Just this once?”

Zenyatta’s head tilted and shoulders shifted like he did when he was sad and fond all at once, “My dear, Genji. You never needed my permission to be happy, and that is a much more important thing to know.”

Genji bowed to him in respect, and then let his head drop down to his metal shoulder, “Thank you, Master Zenyatta. Welcome back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *ahem* HEROES NEVER DIE
> 
> /attempts to rez all the commenters who keep dying. 
> 
> Did I do it right?
> 
> Also I want all of you who were worried something was going to be wrong when Zenyatta woke up to know how veeeery close that came to happening when I was first drafting this, but I decided that was ultimately too much of a departure from the story I set out to write. So maybe I'll spit one of those out another time. 
> 
> Also also! Because this chapter is a little shorter than the usual, it'll be two days before the next update, so I'll see you all Sunday. This will actually be true of the next chapter as well.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lesson learned together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always thank you so much for the response to the last chapter. It's always overwhelming in the best possible way.

Zenyatta was grateful for Genji’s presence at his side. His mechanical body was still adjusting, calibrating, his steps slightly unsteady, and the world around him hyper focused and blurry by turns as his optics stabilized settings, his auditory functions muddied here and there as they automatically set. 

The world was new and yet familiar around him. Truly a disconcerting feeling.

As soon as the word got out that Zenyatta had woken and was still himself, it seemed like every monk in the temple came by to see him. They offered their congratulations and their happiness at his return. He tried to make sure he thanked each of them. It was humbling to have so many show genuine gladness for your wellbeing, and he tried to express his thanks as well as he could. He said the same things so many times, he worried he was sounding disingenuous.

And then Mondatta stepped in, the crowd of well-wishers parting like stray thoughts. They bowed to each other in respect. The Shambali leader tilted his head at him and nodded, “Welcome back, Tekhartha Zenyatta. We will speak later, once you’ve recovered.”

Mondatta was always something of a force of nature, but quiet and steady yet inexorable, like a shifting season. Zenyatta was grateful for the postponement. 

The other monks seemed to take their cues from him and also dispersed and left them alone once more. Genji’s hand, steady at his elbow or his back through the day, found him again, “Are you well, Master?”

Zenyatta nodded, “I am fine. It has been a long day, but I have one more thing I need to do.”

Genji tilted his head, and with the mask back in place he could not see the expression the cyborg wore, “Oh? What could you need to do so soon?”

“I would like to meet your friend, and thank him.”

Genji nodded slowly, “We can do that. But I will warn you, Master, he probably will not like you. Torbjörn does not like Omnics or A.I. at all. He only came because he owed me a favor.”

Zenyatta hummed, “That is fine. Everyone is entitled to their own opinions. But I would still like to express my gratitude for the care he has shown me. That is not dependant on his opinion.”

“He should still be here. He said he would not leave the temple, just in case there were complications with your reactivation. Do you feel well enough to venture out?”

“I feel in perfect function. Better perhaps than even before. I should be finished calibrating soon, a short walk will probably help the process along.”

Genji led him out, hand constant at his back.

Torbjörn did not like Zenyatta, not even a little bit. He was sitting out on a bench on, checking something on a small personal communicator, and when he saw them his face settled into a grimace and he stood, “So you’re up then?”

Zenyatta bowed low, “Indeed, I am fully functional again, and I understand that was thanks to you. Thank you, for restoring me. I am most grateful. If there is ever anything you need—“

“No! I mean, ah,” Torbjörn backtracked, trying for civil and falling somewhere adjacent, “I really don’t want anything an Omnic—I mean a _monk_ might offer me. No need for that!” He laughed awkwardly.

Genji was laughing softly too, somewhere behind him, the imp. 

“Then I will thank you again, Torbjörn Lindholm.” His processor warbled on the name, muddying it.

Torbjörn couldn’t quite school away his look of complete distaste, “That’s fine. Hmm, processors a little slow?”

Zenyatta nodded, “They are slowly catching up.”

“Any other problems? How’re ya moving? Everything fit together? No catching or issue with yer range of movement?”

Zenyatta considered, “The wrist that was injured it a little stiff.”

“Ah, hell with that, c’mere then. Might as well set ya to rights.” He whipped out a micro toolkit to do some on-the-spot adjustments. 

The Swede wasn’t fond of Omnics, but he had an ironclad work ethic. 

The afternoon dipped low and gold into evening as he repaired several minor issues, until Zenyatta could feel no more was wrong and Torbjörn put his tools away. “Well you’re about as good as I can make ya. I’ll stay in the village a few more days, just in case I missed something that’s gonna to fail catastrophically. Though odds are we’d know already if it was. Have to wait for the next caravan leavin’ anyway.”

“Thank you, again,” Zenyatta said and bowed his head politely and Torbjörn waved off the continued thanks with a roll of his eyes and departed. After he was gone, the monk turned to Genji, “I have not seen a sunset in almost a month, I’ve been told. Would you like to help me fix this?”

Genji chuckled and helped him stand, “I would like nothing more.”

\--

They settled together, sitting close and Zenyatta sighed softly in happiness. The mountains were beautiful, if the air was getting a bit cold, but it was worth it, to be here, to be alive and whole and healthy. To get more time together. 

Genji was quiet and still next to him, and though Zenyatta could tell he wasn’t truly meditating, he could nearly feel the weight of the thoughts that hung around him like a cloud. But hurrying him had never worked, so Zenyatta simply waited for Genji to decide to speak to him in his own time, and enjoyed his company. 

“Master?”

Faster than expected, “Yes, my student?”

“There is something I want to tell you.”

The monk hummed softly, though he had a suspicion what it was. He remember Genji being spattered with blood in those last moments before he faded out, and knew his students violent tendencies troubled him still. Likely he just needed to get it off his chest and unburden himself. “You can tell me anything, Genji,” A truth always worth repeating.

“I know, Master,” he said, voice warm, “I’m in love with you.”

The world around Zenyatta fell away and hyper-focused all at once and he could not help the tremor in his voice, “…Genji?”

The cyborg was looking at him, “I have been for a very long time, Master. Long enough that it feels as much a part of me as the fluid in my veins and the mountain air in my lungs. I am telling you now because I knew you would not belittle me, whatever you made of my feelings, and that you would respect them. And having almost lost you… I could not think of a reason to keep my silence. I have trusted you with so much of myself I had no reason to withhold this, and I want you to know all of me, even if you cannot feel the same.”

The cyborg reached up and disconnected his faceplate and Zenyatta’s words failed him, seeing Genji’s face in the sunset for the first time, the scars drawing lines of gold light along his skin. Shattered and remade. Had he not already been lost, the sight surely would’ve made him fall. 

“I understand now, so much of what you wanted to teach me, and I want you to know, I respect the risk that comes with loving another, because sometimes misfortune strikes and everything must end, but that risk is _worth_ it. That I want to care for you, want to stand with you at your side in all things. That I respect your strength, that I want it to support me and defend me in equal turn. I want to celebrate all my successes with you, for without you, I am nothing.”

Zenyatta shook his head, having no words for a moment, hands reaching up and cupped his face, fingers trailing over the uneven skin and instead offered him not the truths of life but the truths of himself. “You are _everything_.” Genji’s eyes widened a bit, and Zenyatta went on, voice quiet and even with absolute conviction, “You are the joy in my day, the peace in my night, you are the one I worry for and the one I grieve for. You make me proud every day. The idea that I do not love you with all that I am is absurd. I do not think I could define myself and my world without you in it, Genji.”

There was more he wanted to say, years of deep, helpless feelings, like a rising flood, but Genji _surged_ at him, hands cupping the back of his head, bringing him in and kissing across the seam of his faceplate with everything in him. Genji’s mouth was hot against him, hungry in the way it moved, and he could feel it fogging the metal, leaving a slick, wet heat where it touched and Zenyatta’s internal temperature spiked and rose, the sensors hidden behind the seam coursed a frisson of pleasure down his spinal line. 

His hands tightened on Genji’s helmet, hanging on for dear life, a manufactured breathlessness that he _felt_ slipping into his voice, “Genji…”

His student only made a small, urgent sound in his throat, shifting up on his knees and pressing close, ceasing only long enough to gasp his name, “Zenyatta,” lips brushing against metal before he dove back in, kissing him with mad, feverish abandon. Though he could not kiss in return, had no lips to slide against Genji’s he pushed back, tilting into it, pressing eagerly against that delightful, mobile, _surprising_ mouth. “I had no idea you felt anything for me other than affection,” Genji panted, peppering hot little kisses along the seam. 

Zenyatta stroked fingers against the cyborg’s cheek, “I have loved your soul and admired your body for years,” He pressed their foreheads together, feeling almost over-hot even in the cold Nepalese evening. “I was certain an organic being could feel no physical affection for an Omnic, and worried that alerting you to such a thing might upset you.”

“Never,” Genji shook his head, panting, eyes sliding shut, “You could never upset me. Let me kiss you again.”

“Yes—“ Zenyatta barely managed before Genji pounced again, moaning aloud this time, the sound coursing through him like an electric shock and he fell back, falling against the stone, his student blanketing him with that broad, gorgeous body, mouth and tongue tracing over the seam, not deterred in the least by his limited participation. 

So he participated in other ways.

His hands came up, gripping at the armored back, fingers clutching along the spinal line, tracing each of the running lights, pressing eagerly down his sides, the tan material giving slightly, more like synthetic skin than the carapace of armor plating in silver and black. Genji shuddered with it and Zenyatta continued, petting and stroking, his own frame shaking with building sensation, one hand reaching up to anchor against the back of Genji’s head, tangling in the scarf—

Genji pulled back, panting, mouth wet and swollen, looking down at him with dark, devouring eyes. “We need to get out of the open.”

Zenyatta, reached one trembling finger to trace down the curve of his student’s cheek, “my room is located in a temple full of monks, but,” his voice dropped an octave, a vocal range he didn’t often have use for, “I believe yours is likely empty.”

Genji’s eyes darkened to nearly black and his running lights flared viridian.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Genji is going to be more human sexually than a lot of the Genjis I see. Spark kisses and wireplay aren't really my thing, so, hopefully this'll be okay to read. 
> 
> I'll see you guys Tuesday. I think I have a few tags to make good on.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Learning one another

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry. Sorry. Sorry.  
> I was up way too late last night with a friend trying to unlock achievements (I'm a decent Symmetra but Huge Success is impossible, jfc) and didn't have time this morning to post.
> 
> So. This is porn.  
> I don't mean 'hehehe I wrote a naughty chapter'  
> I wrote you porn.  
> This is unadulterated, unrealistic, unrepentant pornography.  
> It's filth.  
> If you think they're pure and fluffy and whatever else, this is your one warning to go no further.  
> The rest of you  
> Have fun.

The hurried trip to the village did nothing to dampen their ardor; instead it put an edge of anticipation on it. The total trust between them keeping all but the faintest flicker of anxiety at bay. Most of the villagers were in their homes enjoying their evening meal with their families, and no one was about to waylay them, no village children to stop them this time, though Zenyatta mentally added visiting them to his list of things to do. 

But his list for tonight—and possibly a good portion of tomorrow—had only one item.

One person.

Genji took his arm and nearly pulled him inside in his haste, closing the door. He paused then, his momentum faltering for only a moment before he reached up and removed his mask again, having worn it for the trip back. He glanced up at Zenyatta and then threw it to the side carelessly, reaching out and pulling the Omnic against him, arms settling around the monk’s sparse waist.

Zenyatta went without protest, settling his hands on Genji’s biceps and waited, watching as those dark eyes roved over him, until he spoke. “This is alright?” He whispered finally, “I have not pushed you?”

“Genji,” Zenyatta began, equal parts exasperation and fondness. Well, mostly fondness. “There is nothing you could ask of me that I would not readily give to you.” His fingers went back to stroke Genji’s face like moths drawn towards a flame, “Even should you ask for my body, such as it is. I do not wear your name on my metal parts like the serial numbers from the Omnium, but it is etched into my soul all the same. Should you ask for it, you will find it yours.”

Genji’s eyes were dark and dilated as he spoke and in a rush Zenyatta felt himself lifted bodily, one arm scooping under his hips, the other on his back to steady him, and with eyes locked he carried him towards his mattress. “How can you say such things?” He hissed, nuzzling with nose and mouth against the pistons that formed Zenyatta’s collar. “How can you tell such pristine truths of peace and oneness with the universe and then say with perfect seriousness that I am welcome to your _body?_ ”

Zenyatta leaned back, toppling back onto the mattress, legs slipping to splay indecently around his student’s trim hips, pulling Genji to follow, braced above him. It was a position Zenyatta was fast becoming fond of, and his orbs orbited them, casting blue color over the metal of their bodies. “You think me so-one sided, that all I could possibly offer were peaceful platitudes and distant words of wisdom?” He teased.

Genji’s face was flushed beautifully, but a knowing smile tugged at that handsome mouth, “Hardly, Master.” He leaned down, stealing another deep, hot kiss against his faceplate, “You have done nothing if not surprise me on a regular basis.”

Zenyatta’s hands slid down Genji’s chest, reveling in the contours of his body. “Then allow me to continue to do so.” He arched off the mattress to lean near Genji’s auditory sensors and pitched his voice low, “I have pleasured myself to the thought of you, my dearest student. I have done so with embarrassing frequency.”

Genji’s mouth fell open, eyes wide, his vents immediately spewing green vapor, “You—? _How?_ ” His eyes snapped laser sharp with focus and his voice came out as a growl, hot and desperate, not a question, “Show me.”

Zenyatta hummed softly and shifted, letting his hands travel slowly over his own body, noting the way Genji tracked them like a hawk tracking prey. “I have many sensors tucked into my body, all to help me discern things about the world around me.” His fingers found the two tucked just above his chest plate and he shuddered, a tremor running through his frame, “And they are like, Ahhhh… touching any sensitive place might be like,” he trembled, a little surprised himself, “these were not this sensitive before.”

Genji was panting, watching him with hunger, and Zenyatta didn’t miss the way his codpiece strained against its couplings. “It’s like you’ve never been touched, Master. Like your body is brand new to everything.”

The monk trembled, fingers teasing, his back arching a bit, helpless with it, “So it is.”

Genji watched him, all that leashed feeling for a moment longer—

—and then the damn broke and he fell on his teacher, _ravenous_.

Zenyatta could do little more than shake under him as Genji’s mouth and hands roved, searching out every niche of his body, touching every plane and piston. Whenever his fingers brushed against one of the monk’s sensors the Zenyatta gasped and that hot, eager mouth followed unerringly, lapping the little node, teeth scraping and mouth suckling. 

Zenyatta’s hands fisted against Genji, trying to touch him, to give as good as he received, but the cyborg was relentless, and all he could do was hold on as he drowned in his student’s ardor. “Genji… Genji…” he chanted the name like a prayer.

“Master, when you say my name like that,” He didn’t finish, hands pulling insistently at Zenyatta’s pants, sliding them down, barely having the patience to shove them down the Omnic’s thighs before his hands grasped the monk’s hips, mouth diving to lick and suck along the parts of his abdominal flux. Zenyatta arched, spinal line bowing, his dots and orbs flaring brighter, and Genji’s dark eyes drank him in from where he watched. “Beautiful.”

Genji’s hands trailed down, between his legs, finding, not the organic equipment he was used to, but a cluster of several sensors used to manage Zenyatta’s balance and equilibrium. His fingers brushed and pressed against them, and the monk _shook_ , a choked cry wrenched from his voice box. “You can climax like this?” Genji asked, voice low and wrecked, “I want to be sure I bring you the greatest pleasure, Zenyatta.”

_“You are,”_ he managed somehow, voice frayed with static charge, “I lack the parts to interlock with an organic—currently—but that does not mean that I cannot feel pleasure as sharp and hot as one might.”

Genji, bright, brilliant Genji, latched onto the important part of that statement, “Currently?” his fingers pressed against him more firmly.

Zenyatta’s hands scrabbled at him, one closing around a stabilizing antenna, the other fisting in his scarf. “Yeh— _yes!_ I can, Hahhhh, my body can be fitted with the proper parts to— _Hnng Genji!_ —Interface with a Human. I have never had need of them to seek their installment.”

Genji’s eyes flashed green and Zenyatta made a small needful sound—he hadn’t known Genji could _do_ that—and the cyborg growled, “ _Yes,_ ” He reared up, pressing their foreheads together, hand still pressing and rubbing along the sensors between his legs, “If—if you’re willing, I—I _want_ that.” He panted against him, breath fogging the reflective chrome, voice low and dark, “I want to _take_ you, Zenyatta. Bury myself inside you and never come out. Want to let you thrust into me, to spread me open and fill me.”

The Omnic keened, hands clutching, metal scratching against metal, “Genji—“ he warned, “ _close—_ “

Genji snarled and dropped down between his legs and licked a hot, wet stripe over him, moaning long and low and loud enough that Zenyatta _felt_ every vibration. 

He climaxed with a ragged cry, pressing up into it, hovering for split seconds off the mattress, lights flashing white and hot as he tumbled over his peak, shattered and shivering with the aftershocks, only able to murmur his student’s name appreciatively.

Genji licked through it till he settled back against the sheets, nuzzling and then crawling back up his body, eyes dark with heat and arousal and the most self-satisfied grin turning his mouth. “You are _exquisite_ , Master. I have never been privilege to such beauty in all my years.”

“No—” Zenyatta tried but his voice box failed and Genji’s grin stretched, glimpses of that smug youth he’d once been lingering still, “No need for flattery now, my student.”

“It is not flattery if it’s true,” Genji fired back, the argument so familiar that Zenyatta laughed breathlessly.

“Kiss me again, and then I am going to make you shout my name as you cum.”

Genji was on him, kissing against him with undiluted, ravenous hunger, strong body pressed all against Zenyatta’s his hips rocking, rutting his trapped cock against him. With shaking fingers he reached down, feeling over the dark codpiece—a thick synthetic material that was stiff but had the faintest amount of give—seeking out the couplings and releasing them. It clicked as it came up, sliding back into his armor with a snap, Genji’s thick cock bursting free, pressing long and hard into his hands. 

“Oh Genji,” he wrapped one hand around him, careful even though his fingers were designed to interlock in a way that would keep them from pinching flesh, and began to stroke, feeling each throb and twitch against the sensor on his palm. He shivered, his own pleasure a simmering burn low in his core again. Genji’s cock was largely free of the scarring the rest of his organic parts were, though there was a long line of raised tissue over his pubic mound, cutting near the base. 

“M-Master,” He panted, trying to kiss, losing the control of it as he moaned, able to do little more than buck helplessly into his teacher’s touch. “Never been this hard. You, all for you—need you, dreamed of this!"

Zenyatta stroked faster, letting Genji fuck himself into his fist, reaching up to brush a thumb against the cyborg’s trembling lower lip. Genji caught it in those plush, scarred lips, suckling on the metal and Zenyatta felt his internal temperature spike. “You are so eager for it,” He murmured and the cyborg whimpered around his thumb, a thick dribble of precum wrung from the slit of his aching cock, “You are always so eager for what I can bestow upon you, my student.”

Genji nodded, clever mouth suckling, a trickle of saliva running down the joint of Zenyatta’s hand, leaking all over with his pleasure. He moaned, the sound low and shameless, offering his enjoyment freely to his master. Zenyatta began to flick his wrist as he pumped, adding a twist to the motion, thumb smearing through the mess of liquid at the head, humming in approval as he felt a hard twitch and a gush of more. 

“So good, you are so good for me, Genji,” he crooned softly, pressing his forehead against the cyborg’s, feeling him shake and tremble, nearly unable to hold his weight off the Omnic. “Show me how good you are, my dear. Cum for me.”

“Ahhhhhhh—!” Genji cried out and bucked hard, almost enough to dislodge Zenyatta’s hand, cock twitching and spurting thickly, ropes of viscous white cum splattering on his chrome. “Master!” he panted, hips jerking as the monk wrung every drop of feeling from his orgasm, “Zenyatta!”

Zenyatta hummed and stroked him through it, murmuring praise as he did, letting Genji nuzzle him until the shocks faded. Genji shifted close and kissed him, a deep, lazy kiss, full of dragging lips against his faceplate and an eager searching tongue.

The monk made a soft sound of surprise, feeling Genji’s cock still throb hot and heavy in his hand, sloppy and coated in his cum. “Not finished then, hmm?” He asked, giving him a squeeze.

Genji shuddered, hips bucking in a loose, fluid motion, “Since I was remade… once is rarely enough, Master.”

Zenyatta leaned back, stroking slow and steady, beckoning with his free hand, “help me finish disrobing, and we will see if we cannot hit our peaks together.”

“Guh,” Genji panted succinctly, and clawed at the monk’s shabby garments, trying to get them the rest of the way off. Zenyatta perhaps would’ve once worried that his own form was a pale comparison against his student’s sleek, muscled body, but it was hard to feel inadequate when Genji was looking at him as if he were a feast laid out for his sole pleasure, and he was _starving_ for it. 

He pressed close, and Zenyatta released him only to slide his hands over his abdomen, fingers tracing and touching, exploring for now but looking forward to the future in which he had each and every dip and curve of this body memorized by feel alone. “Now, press between my legs, slot yourself in just,” he trembled as Genji’s cock pressed against that cluster of nodes, voice trembling, “Yes, just like that. Good, that’s good, Genji—“

“Oh, Master,” He shuddered, head dropping to Zenyatta’s shoulder and began to rock slowly, thick cock sliding against him, thrusting against his sensors with each cant of his hips. “Master, Master,” he moaned, as if it we the only word left to him.

Zenyatta panted, his voice box churning on the sound, hands running up and down Genji’s back, pulling him closer, rocking his own hips up into each push of his student’s. His hands slide down and cupped Genji’s perfect, distracting ass, the material giving underneath his fingers and he squeezed.

Genji hissed, shuddering, hips bucking out of tempo, teeth setting against one of the pistons of his neck, “Nnn!”

Zenyatta kneaded slowly in time with each thrust, like a pleased cat, “Do not silence yourself, Genji, let me hear the proof of your pleasure.”

The cyborg let go a breathy moan in response, arms wrapping around the Omnic tightly, holding on as he began to rut himself furiously between his legs, panting almost nonsensically in Japanese. “Oh Master, please. Good, so good with me, ohhh please. Never want to stop—love you, perfect, you’re so perfect, Master, love you, Zenyatta…

“Don’t stop,” The Omnic whispered, overcome, moving with him, feeling the end rushing forward. “I wish to cum with you, are you close?”

Genji nodded frantically, “Yes, Zenyatta, please, close, I need—“

Zenyatta squeezed his ass again and bucked faster, hips canting with Genji’s, “Now, I’m right there, please—“

_“Yes—“_

Shaking, moaning with it, then finished together, Genji’s cum slick and sloppy between them, his sensors went haywire, wet and hot with Genji’s release and Zenyatta shook, the aftershocks leaving him wrecked as Genji thrust through it.

Genji didn’t stop.

He kept going, hips bucking erratically, still hard between Zenyatta’s legs, whole body trembling and still chasing further release. “Once more. Please, Master, once more, let me, I _need—_ “

“Yes,” Zenyatta wrapped his legs around him, pleasure a bright, over-sharp burn along his circuits, eager for his student to use him to find his own pleasure. “Take what you need, Genji, take your pleasure from me—“

“Can you… can you cum again, Master? Please, I want you to cum with me—“

“Yes, with you, always with you—“

Genji keened tightly and bucked against him with abandon, cock sliding through the mess he’d made, leaving them both sticky and dripping with his release, his cock leaking more, constantly. The hot, wet slide was almost more than Zenyatta could bear. His new, untested sensors nearly burned white hot with it, control fraying with the intensity. Intoxicated with it, his senses filled with _Genji_ , Zenyatta’s head fell back, voice box letting out a long, low moan of noise.

“Love hearing you moan—“ Genji sounded _ruined_ , voice unsteady and ragged, the hard lines of his body vibrating with sensation.

“I love you, Genji, my dearest, so much—“

A low whine like nothing Zenyatta had heard before built and Genji pressed him down hard, hips rutting like mad, like this was what he was _made_ for. 

“Do not stop,” Zenyatta pleaded, voice high, the sound quivering in the air, “Find your release, _so close_ , I’ll follow—“

Genji came suddenly this time, faster, his thick cock over-sensitized and cumming hot and messy right on Zenyatta’s cluster of nodes, teeth biting against his neck, helpless with feeling, landing on one of Zenyatta’s sensors.

The monk’s vision whited out and he passed into the halo of the iris in the moment, six, golden limbs touching over Genji’s body as they climaxed, frantic with sensation, holding onto him like he was the only thing to anchor him down. Joined together in this moment in the universe.

Zenyatta passed out of the halo, body wrecked with tremors, finding Genji limp and boneless against him, gasping for breath. The monk wrapped his physical arms around him, holding him tightly; his orbs slowing form their rapid orbit above them. “Genji, oh, Genji…”

The cyborg made a low sound and tried valiantly to shift off, but fell back against him, body spent. He tucked his head against Zenyatta’s shoulder and panted, nuzzling with a lazy urgency instead. “Master,” he breathed the word like it was home, “that was…” He trailed off, having no words.

Zenyatta merely nodded, and told Genji the greatest truth he had to give him.

“I love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So.
> 
> There's one chapter left. 
> 
> As it stands, that's a little epilogue I wrote to cap off the story, however I will tell you when I first wrote this, I wrote a second porn chapter, in which Zenyatta gets the right equipment to, ah, INTERFACE with Genji. So I have that. 
> 
> Wasn't sure how people felt about robotdick, so I chickened out a little, but I will post it, should that be something anyone wants to read.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's always something new to learn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *taking detailed notes* Okay, so people come out of the woodwork for characters getting shot and robotdick. Got it. 
> 
> Tags have been updated too. By popular demand, robotdick. 
> 
> Also, gotta give my respect to 1readerVB for calling that the conversation between Zenyatta and Mondatta existed way back in Chapter 4. Gave me a hell of a laugh. 
> 
> I am so sorry Torbjörn. (Not really)

Torbjörn marched over to where Genji stood, staring out the window. The Swede’s face was set into a scowl, a faint hint of blush remaining, and he reached up and grabbed the cyborg’s scarf and _yanked_ to get his attention. “It’s done. Don’t ya dare contact me again. I don’t want to know how he got the measurements. I’m going to go drink ‘till I can’t remember this. I’m not sure if I ever want to see you, _either_ of you again. I’m leaving.”

Genji’s green lights flared up and he laughed, “Thank you, Torbjörn.”

The inventor grumbled and waved him off, storming out of the hall and likely the temple, muttering about damn filthy Omnics. 

Anticipation and excitement burning its way through his veins, Genji hurried through the temple.

\--

“Your procedure went well, I hope?”

Zenyatta glanced up from where he sat on the floor, sheet covering his legs. When he spotted Mondatta looking down at him he decided that meditation was likely a lost cause, considering Genji would arrive soon. It did not surprise him in the least that somehow Mondatta knew. “It did. Very smoothly.” 

“I am gratified to hear it.” He tilted his head, “I also understand that congratulations are in order.”

Was there _nothing_ he didn’t know?

“Do you?” Zenyatta said, attempting distance.

“I understand you and your student, Genji have come together, is that not so?”

“That is true, yes,” he began hesitantly, unsure. Mondatta had been remarkably tolerant of his continuing, consuming, fascinated affection for Genji. But that was not the same as condoning it, and he’d never been specific. 

“Ah!” Mondatta brought his hands together, his exclamation soft and jubilant. “How wonderful. Congratulations, Zenyatta.”

Zenyatta wasn’t completely buying it. Mondatta was older than he and the others, and nearly twice as wily when he wanted to be. “Thank you. I had never expected Genji to be so amenable to my affections.”

Mondatta’s head tilted around, and had he been organic, Zenyatta suspected he may be rolling his eyes. “Zenyatta, that man has been pining after you. For years.”

Iris take him if _Mondatta_ knew all this, “I would not go so far as to say that.”

“I would. And you were no better. Something tells me if I thought you were of a single mind previously that it is nothing compared to now.”

“I’m sure I have no idea what you mean.”

“Of course not,” Mondatta said placidly. “But if he was the only thing you talked about _before_ I cannot even imagine how much I’ll have to hear now that you actually _have_ him.”

Zenyatta hummed, looking down, shoulders hitching up as though trying to hide a bashful smile, “Ah, that.”

“Yes, _that_ ,” Mondatta chuckled, “You’d think he hung the moon and lit the sun the way you spoke about him sometimes.”

“I did no such thing.”

“You did so _frequently_. Or do I need to remind you about the time I was almost literally trapped in a room with you and you talked about his smile for two hours.”

“You are exaggerating.”

“My chronometers are in perfect order. I assure you, I am not.” He tilted his head, “But I suppose after all the time I have had to listen to you wax poetic about the color of his visor, I am glad you found some peace, my brother.”

Zenyatta bowed his head, “As am I.”

Genji saved him further probing by choosing that exact moment to appear in his windowsill tilting his head down at them. 

Mondatta laughed softly and turned to leave, “Glad to see you making good use of my advice, Genji. I suppose this is my cue to take my leave.” And when he stepped out it felt like all the air in the room left with him.

But as Genji dropped down, faceplate coming off, pressing a slow, soft kiss against him it felt like he brought fresh mountain wind and thermals enough to rise above Everest. He pulled back, and offered an eager, impish grin, “It is done?”

“It is. Torbjörn gave me all the necessary information on care and maintenance of my new parts. I am sufficiently prepared to use and deal with them.”

Genji’s eyes grew dark, the edges of his irises going green, “Show me, Master.”

Zenyatta gestured at the curtain by the door, and only once Genji had tied it closed did he remove the sheet covering himself with just a hint of timidity. The cyborg made an involuntary sound, eyes widening, throat bobbing as he swallowed convulsively. 

Between Zenyatta’s legs were some things that had not been there before. 

“Master, may I…?”

“Very well. But—“ He gasped a bit as Genji suddenly scrambled over, pushing his thighs apart, eyes dark, “Genji, easy—“

Genji bit his lip and ignored his protests, reached to thumb over a small nub of silicone between his legs and Zenyatta shuddered, releasing a breathy sound. “Good?” He asked, breathless himself and rubbed over it repeatedly, “Now, what is this, Master?” 

Zenyatta’s head fell back, “It, it’s—“

“And this?” His other hand moved down lower, brushing a tight circular orifice built into the posterior of his pelvic chassis, his eyes darkened further as he touched it, finding it soft, finding the tip of his finger slipped _in_. “Oh, Master,” he swallowed convulsively, “ _Zenyatta._ ”

Zenyatta writhed helplessly, “Genji, not here—“

Genji wet his lips and dropped down without warning, lapping the silicone bump, mouth greedily suckling, eyes up, watching him. 

_“Genji—“_ His hands scrabbled at the cyborg’s helmet, “We are in the _temple!_ ”

“Don’t care,” He moaned, running the flat of his tongue against him. 

“Genji you cannot be _quiet!_ ”

“ _I don’t care,”_ And he closed his mouth over it and _sucked._

_“Hahh—“_ Zenyatta reached up and yanked out the cord to his voice box, cutting the moan short.

Genji _grinned_ at him, looking so self-satisfied, “Who was it that can’t be quiet, Master? I don’t think I _heard_ you.” Zenyatta shook silently, hands clutching at him as Genji teased his tongue across him. 

Suddenly he bucked and pushed at his head frantically as if in warning—

—and the silicone bump clicked and twisted, segments sliding into place as it slid out—

—the phallic attachment releasing from within and pushing right into an astonished Genji’s mouth.

Zenyatta _stared_ him, embarrassed and shocked.

Genji stared back, eyes wide, mouth stretched around him indecently. Slowly, he let the imitation cock slip from his mouth, still staring at his Master.

Zenyatta covered his face with his hands, _mortified._

Genji snorted and then started laughing, falling against him, unable to contain his mirth. The monk sagged back and reached to smack his head lightly. The cyborg grinned, bright and happy, reaching to take that hand and bring it down, kissing the palm. “I am,” he had to stop and giggle again, “I am _sorry,_ Master, I didn’t know.”

Zenyatta stroked his cheek affectionately and then flicked his forehead.

“Yes, alright, you’re always right.” He grinned through, “But I’m not going to listen to you this time.” Zenyatta made a frantic gesture that stuttered out as Genji wrapped a hand around him, pumping slowly, fingers sliding along the seams of the segments. “Let me take a good look at this. Does it feel good?” Zenyatta clutched at Genji’s shoulders, back arching. “Oh I think it does,” he wet his lips, watching. He fisted the Omnic firmly and began to pump with deep, steady strokes.

Zenyatta’s lights flared brightly, his orbs whirling out of orbit and Genji grinned.

“If you feel this so strongly now, just my hand, Master, I cannot _wait_ to see what you do when I use my mouth for real to pleasure you.”

The Omnic shuddered hard, head dropping to Genji’s shoulder.

Genji dropped his voice low, murmuring, “But maybe this won’t be the new part of yours I use my mouth on first, Master.”

Zenyatta’s hands spasmed against Genji’s shoulders and the attachment in his hand _twitched_ like a current run through a wire.

Genji kissed over the points of light on his crown, and without saying more slid down slowly, running eager mouth over all the planes of the monk’s body, hitting a few of his sensors on the way. Zenyatta trembled, hands leaving his student’s body reluctantly. 

Genji shot an impish grin up at him and bobbed down on Zenyatta’s cock once, sucking firmly as he came up.

Zenyatta’s back bowed, hovering over the mat for a split second. 

“Oh, I am going to enjoy that later, but I really want to get a look at this…” He pushed the monk’s legs back, holding him exposed, eyes dark and locked on his new parts. “Oh, Master,” He breathed, and leaned down, running sensitive lips around his posterior orifice, tongue flicking out to taste, groaning, “So soft, Master Zenyatta.” 

His eyes flashed and he clutched Zenyatta’s hips tightly and pushed his tongue _in._

Zenyatta’s hands scrabbled at the mat and gripped hard enough to _tear_ it. 

Genji moaned into him, loud and unrepentant, tongue thrusting slowly, swirling inside him, taking in the texture of the walls, feeling the way the new parts moved around him. He slipped his tongue out, leaving a trail of saliva and licked his lips, “Soft and so _tight_ , Master. The way this is made, I wonder if I even need to prepare you, or if I can just thrust inside.”

Zenyatta lay there, trembling, run through with feeling and overwhelmed with new sensations, lifted a hand and deliberately _beckoned_.

Genji stared a second, panting and then reared up, pulling Zenyatta’s legs around his own hips, hands scrabbling at his own codpiece, trying to free himself desperately. As he succeeded, hard cock springing free he let go a long gasp of relief. He swallowed, looking down at his Master, open and waiting for him. “This is okay?”

Zenyatta sagged, _exasperation_ run through his body language and reached out to take a firm hold of Genji’s cock and pull him closer.

Genji hissed in pleasure, throbbing, “Ah! Easy, okay, I get it.” He grinned at him, face flushed, “You are rather demanding in bed, Master. I love it.” He smiled down at him, “I love _you_.”

Zenyatta reached up with trembling hands and cupped his face, thumbs stroking over his cheeks lovingly.

Genji leaned into them for a moment before his eyes snapped open and his quiet smile morphed into a predatory grin and he shifted, teasing the head of his cock against Zenyatta’s entrance a moment, watching as tremors wracked the monk’s body, and then bucked in, sheathing himself inside the Omnic with one, long thrust.

Genji let go a shameless moan, mouth falling open, eyes sliding shut, cock within his master throbbing in the _tight_ , wet heat, _“Zenyatta!”_

The Omnic arched up off the floor, a raw static sound coming from him, body shaking as Genji entered him, hands reaching for him, fisting against the running lights on his abdomen. He trembled, able to do little else than _feel_ as Genji waited, buried deep inside, adjusting. 

Genji panted, cock throbbing, expression wrecked, and then he bit his lip and started to _move._

Slow at first, he pulled almost all the way out and pushed in again in a slow slide, moaning as he was fully sheathed again, “Master,” He whispered, eyes closing, “This is—“

Zenyatta reached up with shaking hands, thumbs brushing his eyelids and Genji opened them at once, finding him. 

“You’re beautiful,” He breathed and thrust again, Zenyatta’s body arching and shaking, “You are _perfect_ inside and out. Never want to stop…” his eyes roved his lover’s body, panting, face flushed. “This is good for you, Master?”

Zenyatta nodded frantically, his hips shifting pushing back into Genji’s cock, eager and helpless for it. 

Genji’s eyes darkened, watching him, bucking in deep and thrusting shallowly, letting his thick length just shift inside, teasing the both of them. “Not good enough, Zenyatta, I want to _hear_ you.” He pulled almost all the way out, the tip of his leaking shaft inside the Omnic’s posterior hole and reached up to plug the wire back into Zenyatta’s voice box at the moment he _bucked_ , stuffing his cock inside till he bottomed out. 

Zenyatta’s back bowed long and he cried out, voice fraying as his shout of pleasure filled the small room. Genji watched, eyes drinking him in, expression smug as the sounds of his Master’s bliss under his body sounded helplessly.

_“Genji—!”_ The Omnic’s voice was a high whine, needy, “ _Hnng_ —You are so _troublesome._ ” He moaned, shaking, hips rutting back against his student’s buried cock in perfect mechanical synchrony.

“Ohhh, you do not mean a _word_ of that,” Genji leaned down, mouthing at Zenyatta’s neck, looking for one of the sensors he knew hid there, hips pumping into him. 

“Hahh…!” Zenyatta arched eagerly into it, arms clutching at his student, one gripping his shoulder, the other tugging a stabilizing antenna, pulling him closer. “I… Mmm! I do not.”

“Tell me,” Genji lapped the node, hips working in time with the strokes of his tongue, “This is good for you? Want to hear you say it, Master.”

“So good, Genji,” Zenyatta managed, his voice warbling, “Never felt anything like this…!”

Genji gripped his Master’s hips, pulling him into faster, harder thrusts, “Oh, I want to do this every day, Master.”

Zenyatta nodded frantically, static charged sounds of raw feeling coming constantly, “Yes, Never stop, Genji—“ He shuddered, “I do not… my dearest I cannot last—!”

Genji moaned helplessly, holding himself above him with one hand, the other reaching down to stroke him, eyes dark, drinking him in and desperate to drown, “Do not hold back. Oh, Zenyatta let me see, close, I’m so close with you but I need to see you—“

Climax tore through Zenyatta’s metal body like a lightning strike, and he arced off the floor, crying out in blissed-out abandon, near-screaming his student’s name, _“Genji—!”_

“Hahhh! Oh Master! Oh Zenyatta!” Genji bucked twice more and pushed deep, cumming hard inside, hips jerking as he emptied himself within his Master. 

Zenyatta keened as he felt it, the sensors inside raw, feeling every pulse and twitch and he collapsed back on the floor, shuddering and shaking, unable to stop. “Genji… Oh, Genji…”

Genji nuzzled him, feverish and drunk on feeling, still hard inside him, “Mmm… Zenyatta.”

Zenyatta reached with shaking hands up to pet Genji’s face, “You,” he began but his voice shook and he tried again, “You do not have to stop, take your fill from me, my dearest.”

Genji grinned, flushed and leaned down to kiss his faceplate deep and long, “Ohhh I am sorely tempted, Master,” A lovely emerald flush suffused his cheeks and he wet his lips, “But I was hoping perhaps we could try something else?”

“Anything your heart desires.”

“Trade places with me,” he panted, “Want to feel you inside me, Master. Want to belong to you.”

Zenyatta trembled, “You will have to teach me what to do, Genji.” 

He swallowed thickly, “Oh… I would be honored, Master.” He leaned down, kissing him hotly.

“Mm, perhaps I should be calling _you_ ‘Master’, my student.”

Genji gulped audibly and said a touch hoarse, “Do not tease me, Zenyatta. I am liable to eat you _alive._ ”

Zenyatta chuckled breathlessly, “Then perhaps another time, after I have acclimated, _Master Genji_.”

Genji groaned loud, and Zenyatta felt his cock throb inside him. “You are _terrible_ ,” He hissed, and kissed him again.

Zenyatta hummed happily, tilting into it for him, “I wonder where I learned it from.”

Genji laughed against him, “Oh I do not think you learned _anything_ from me.” He grinned and shifted, slipping his dripping cock from Zenyatta’s body. “I think you are an entity unto yourself.”

Zenyatta shivered at the sensation of being emptied, “What do I need to do?”

Genji shifted up, straddling his Master’s hips, long, wet cock bobbing shamelessly before him, dripping on Zenyatta. He reached behind to the small of his back to release the coupling on the black strap between his full ass, Zenyatta settled his hands on it without thinking, fingers touching, feeling as the strap slid up into his armor and clicked. 

“You complain there was much you did not know of me, but there is so much about your body that I do not know either,” Zenyatta squeezed for good measure. Because he could.

“Ah,” Genji shivered, pushing into it, “Well this isn’t really something I feel like I could drop on you from nowhere,” He grinned, “But that would have been an interesting conversation.”

“I would’ve enjoyed it.” He squeezed again, “What do I need to do?”

His student shivered above him, “Take your fingers and spread me open. Then see if you can find,” He broke off, moaning softly as Zenyatta followed his directions, spreading his ass apart, two fingers sliding in to find his hole and rub. All augmented flesh here, none of that green-tinted organic skin left on his face and cock. 

“Are you sure this will work?” Zenyatta worried, feeling how tight the orifice was beneath his fingers, feeling it quiver and squeeze at nothing. 

Genji nodded, “Not in practice but in theory.” He grinned breathlessly, “You are not the only one who never had reason to use certain parts, Master.” He shuddered, “Give me your hand, I don’t know how much preparation—if any—I’ll need.”

Zenyatta offered him his hand, the other staying cupped around one of his cheeks and Genji bobbed down, taking two of his wide metal fingers in his mouth and suckling wetly, diligent tongue licking and coating them. The Omnic made a soft sound, lost for a moment in symbolism.

Genji pulled off with a soft gasp, “This wouldn’t have been enough were I fully human but I think it will suffice.” He swallowed, “Slip them inside, and we’ll see how that feels.”

Zenyatta nodded, watching his face, and reached down, teasing wet fingers against him before pushing one in with a long slide up to his metal knuckle. He made a low sound. Genji was _tight._

“Mmm—“ Genji made a bitten off noise, teeth setting into his lower lip, and Zenyatta felt the synthetic flesh around him _squeeze._

“Oh,” Zenyatta managed, “This is going to feel—“

“It will be so good, Master,” he panted, “Give me the second.”

Zenyatta hummed softly, “Do you need it or is it for your own pleasure?”

Genji laughed, “Let’s just say both.”

The Omnic chuckled and pushed the second finger in deeply, “Imp.”

Genji’s head fell back and his hips canted, moving on the fingers, “Now,” He swallowed, voice hoarse, “Now move them like a pair of scissors a bit, see how much give I have.” He trembled as Zenyatta followed his direction, “Oh, Master, that is more than enough stretch for you. Want to feel it, hurry, need you…”

“You have learned nothing of patience from me then,” Zenyatta chuckled, slipping his fingers out only to wrap them around Genji’s cock.

Genji moaned loud, “Do not want to be patient, Master. I am _done_ being patient. Wanted you for so long, now that I can have you I do not _want_ to wait.” He reached down, taking his Master’s cock in hand shifting over him, guiding it into place, he bit that distracting lip, teasing the head against himself and then, proving just how impatient he was, sat down firmly, taking Zenyatta in his entirety in one go, letting a loud moan go, shameless with it.

“Ahhhh—!” Zenyatta’s hands scrambled and he reached for the cord to his voice again, but Genji grabbed his hand, threading their fingers and grinned down at him, face flushed.

“Ohhh no you don’t. I am going to hear every single noise you make while I ride you.” He shuddered, hips shifting and grinding on him a little, feeling the length that filled him, squeezing every inch. “Oh, Master, had no idea…”

_“Genji,”_ Zenyatta’s voice was low and desperate, head tossing, hips jerking up into his student, trying hard to hold still.

“ _Look_ at you,” Genji breathed, squeezing again, “I will never tire of seeing you overcome, Master.”

“Genji, _please_ ,” he begged, unsure of what he was asking for.

His student made a soft needy sound and shifted up, the texture of Zenyatta’s segmented cock dragging against the rim of his hole, and sat firmly again, taking him deep. Together they let out twin moans, and Genji began moving again, unable to help himself. “Master, can’t stop, so _good—_ “

Zenyatta squeezed Genji’s ass, trying to hold on as his student bounced on him, hands braced on his chest plate, head falling back, mouth open, fucking himself greedily on his master’s cock. “Genji, oh my dearest, don’t hold back, take everything you need—“

Genji keened and began to ride him in earnest, thighs slapping with every down stroke, his body stretching beautifully to accommodate the Omnic. His long, wet cock bobbed, hard and drooling over Zenyatta and the monk reached and fisted it firmly, watching as Genji bucked and cried out, precum spurting onto his hand. “Master!”

“I will not leave you wanting, my dear, keep going, find your pleasure,” He stroked him relentlessly; “I wish to watch you climax, your body speared upon me.”

Genji whined and nodded, able to do little else than moan, face flushed green, chanting a desperate refrain, “Yes, yes, Master, oh Zenyatta, _yes—_ “

“Cum for me, Genji, let me see it,” Zenyatta bucked, driving deep, cock passing over a strange node within Genji and his student _shouted_ , eyes flashing green, his jerking and cumming _hard_ all over his teacher.

_“Zenyatta!”_

“Oh yes, that’s good, so good, Genji,” he stroked through it, the cyborg shuddering, his cock twitching and spurting, his own throbbing deep within. 

“M-Master,” he whined, oversensitized and needy. 

“Can you cum again, Genji?”

The cyborg nodded, eyes hazy with pleasure, “Yes, I can, please, anything, just want you to cum with me.”

Zenyatta nodded eagerly, unsure himself if he could hold on too much longer, not with Genji looking so deliciously ruined atop him, body tight and squeezing as though it never wished to release him. “I can, together, my dear, let us together—“

Genji nodded frantically and began bouncing in earnest, his tight hole squeezing each time he shifted up and nearly off, only to drop his weight down again. Zenyatta sat up, holding Genji in his lap as the cyborg rode him eagerly, stroking his hard cock, other hand reaching around to trace the stretched hole where their bodies joined.

Genji _keened_ and fell against him, unable to hold his weight, and Zenyatta held him tightly as his student rut himself in his lap. “Master, oh, _oh!_ ”

Zenyatta felt his own peak coming like a long drop, and began thrusting up into him in earnest, shifting his weight a little, looking for that same little node—

He felt it as Genji near-screamed, hands clutching at him, _“Master—!”_

Zenyatta held his position and aimed for it, his core temperature nearly out of control, determined to take Genji with him. “Cum with me, Genji. Cum with me!”

“Yes!” He nodded against Zenyatta’s shoulder, voice shaking, unable to keep his eyes open, “With you, Master, please, please, please—“

Zenyatta bucked roughly, pounding his cock against the node in Genji’s body and the cyborg did scream as he came, cum squirting all over the Omnic. Zenyatta went with him, falling over into ecstasy, driving himself up through it, hips pumping into him, drawing the sensation out.

Genji whimpered and humped with him until they had nothing left, falling back together in a heap, able to do little more than ride out the aftershocks. Zenyatta held him through it, pressing his forehead against Genji’s helm as they anchored each other. 

Genji kissed him, the motion needful and unconscious, just wanting to be close, “Love you,” he murmured, “Love you so much.”

“And you, Genji. I love you, more than anything.”

They lay, quiet, collecting themselves where they’d shattered, coming together more whole than before. Zenyatta pet his back idly, and though his chronometers worked fine he could not say how much time had passed. 

Eventually something occurred to him, “Genji?”

“Mm?” Somewhere against his collar the cyborg lived still.

“You are going to need to do me a rather large favor for the foreseeable future.”

“S’that, Master?” he slurred and pressed a kiss against his neck like he had to.

“Please take me in and out of the temple by the window. I am never going to be able to show my face to my brothers and sisters again.”

Genji _laughed._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just about done, my dears. You've been so good to me. 
> 
> Just the epilogue left, and I'll post that in a day or two.


	11. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zenyatta takes a step back for Genji

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a little (really shitty) present for you guys at the end.

Zenyatta walked down the main steps, back stiff, hands behind his back, pace quick. _Agitation_ writ into every line of his body. His orbs, dormant around his neck kept flickering and shifting as he walked, his control frayed. He struggled to try and clear his mind as he walked, but serene calm evaded him. Internally he berated himself for being so easily riled, he was supposed to be beyond such fleeting feelings.

He had not felt this frustrated, this overcome with negative emotion in years. Not since before Mondatta had found him. 

Mondatta. His hands fisted tightly. How incredibly short-sighted and foolish could one be? The Shambali leader was so brilliant, but this idea he had—lecturing people like disobedient children—was no way to help integrate their people _into_ the world. It would be an uphill battle if they fought it _well_ , never mind _this ludicrous intention—_

“Master?”

Zenyatta raised his head and found Genji leaning against the ledge of the overlook, waiting for him, uncertainty coloring his body language. The monk forced himself to calm. What was done was done. He would not drag his lingering negativity into his time spent here. “Genji, I am sorry. My discussion with Mondatta ran longer than expected. I hope I hadn’t kept you waiting.”

“I have not been here long, Master.” Genji walked over and laid his hands on the monk’s arms, glancing around before reaching up to detach his faceplate and leaning down to press a deep, heartfelt kiss against him, “Zenyatta…”

Zenyatta’s lingering irritation immediately dispersed, leaving him to settle into a sense of ease, rigid posture relaxing under the steadfast affection of his student. It was hard to believe it had been five months since he came back online. Since his and Genji’s relationship had, as the cyborg insisted, _transcended_ their previous boundaries. That cheeky sense of humor. Even now, each touch still felt new and wondrous. 

Which was good because the cyborg was nigh _insatiable_ sometimes.

Zenyatta _still_ marveled at how fast Genji could go from calm meditation, processing his teacher’s lessons, to unleashing a constant _human_ sexual hunger on him. In this respect, Zenyatta was Genji’s student, and he had a lot to learn. 

He loved each and every lesson. 

“I missed you today,” Genji murmured against his faceplate, lingering a bit before replacing his own.

“You saw me this morning,” Zenyatta pointed out, amused.

“I _missed_ you.”

“I am here now,” Zenyatta assuaged. “Would you like to go by the shrine? Sundatta said the chicks from our resident nester have started to take their first test flights. Soon they will leave entirely.”

Genji hesitated, “There was actually something I was hoping to speak to you about, Master. But you seem as though you’ve had a bad day, so it can wait.”

“No, it is alright. If there is something troubling you I would much rather know.”

“Well,” Genji fidgeted, insecurity and uncertainty slipping back into his body language and Zenyatta worried, curious and concerned what was affecting him so. “I’ve been learning here for a long time, Master. Nearly four years. I am indescribably grateful to you for your patience and care with me. What you’ve done cannot be overstated. I doubt I would even be here were it not for you.”

Zenyatta felt like someone had blown cold mountain wind right into his core, “But?” he should’ve known. He had known, of course, but had not thought it would come so soon. Had not thought it would come because Genji _loved_ him.

“I—“ Genji faltered, “I think what I can learn limited to the monastery is nearly at an end, Master,” He murmured. “I am at peace with myself, I am _happy_ , and I owe that to you. You saved me, body and soul. I would not be who I am without you. This monastery is _home_ , but…”

“You wish to leave,” Zenyatta said, voice quiet. It was not a question. It felt like his whole world was crumbling apart, but he didn’t let it show. 

Genji must’ve sensed something though, hesitating, “I—I had thought to see Japan again,” he whispered.

“You wish to leave to find your brother, Hanzo,” Zenyatta felt no comfort in being right. 

“I would like to. He does not know that I live,” Genji nodded. “Since I found it within myself to forgive him, I have wanted to see him again. To tell him so. He was always much more emotional then I, growing up, though he hid it well. Angrier, sadder. I fear what may have happened to him.”

Zenyatta searched within for calm and strength and found only little, but he grasped it tight and held on, determined to do what was best for Genji. “That would be good for you, to see him,” He said slowly. “I am sure it would do just as much for him. When were you thinking of leaving?”

“Master…” Genji trailed off, hesitating. “I, well, I had thought to leave soon. There is a small caravan departing the village in a week, it would be beneficial to ride with them.”

_A week_. So very little time left. “I see,” he said, “Then I—I would wish you the best of luck, Genji. I will help however I can. I hope you’ll be able to stay and watch the sunset with me tonight. Since I will not have many more chances to enjoy it with you.”

“What?” Genji said, sounding surprised and breathless, “No, that’s not—I mean,” He stumbled over his words, nervous again, and blurted, “Come with me?” 

Zenyatta tilted his head, unsure if he’d misheard somehow, “Excuse me?”

Genji reached out and took Zenyatta’s hands, “Come _with_ me,” he begged. “I want all of that, to find Hanzo, see Japan, but I _need_ you. I want to show you where I grew up,” He whispered, “I want to travel with you, share new things with you. I never wish to part from you. If you cannot leave Nepal, then I’ll stay. I don’t want those things more than I need you.”

“Genji,” Zenyatta murmured, genuinely surprised.

“I know I am asking too much,” he whispered, bringing the monk’s hand up to his covered face. “I know it might be impossible, but I wanted…”

Zenyatta thought about it. Leaving the only home he’d ever really known. The only family he’d ever really known. The safety and surety here of the temple, the calm and peace he felt just seeing the statuary and the banners. He thought of everything he had accomplished here.

But he also thought of Mondatta, of their continuing disagreements despite their mutual respect, stronger with every passing day, the friction between them such that even the other monks noticed. 

He thought of Genji. Beautiful, magnificent Genji, strong and lonely for so long. Thought of how he looked in the sun, how he sounded when laughing. When he made snowballs and ran from the children. How his face looked when he sipped tea and when he was moments away from climax. The way he smiled when he said ‘I love you.’

Genji, who had continued to babble nervously.

“—shouldn’t have asked, I’m sorry, Master, I knew better I don’t know why I—“

Zenyatta reached up and carefully pressed his fingers over where his mouth would be through the faceplate and the cyborg quieted immediately. “Genji,” he told him gently, “I would follow you anywhere.”

Genji straightened, surprised, “You—really, Master?”

Zenyatta chuckled and reached up to cup his jaw, “I am looking forward to seeing you amongst the spring blossoms in Hanamura, as you’ve told me about so many times.”

Genji _laughed_ and caught him up in an embrace, holding him close, “Thank you! I cannot wait to show you either.” He rested his helm against Zenyatta’s head and hummed in perfect contentment. “I love you, Zenyatta.”

“I love you as well, Genji.”

[](http://imgur.com/P5cRluE)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _And they take their next steps forward together_
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> The End! 
> 
> Thank all of you so much for joining me for this little trip. I had a great time with it and I hope you did as well!
> 
> If you think you've seen the last of me, don't. I've got just... a bunch of shit already started. A preview for the future is a number of AUs: Young Genji and Shambali leader Zenyatta, Young Genji and household Servant Zenyatta, A little role reversal genyatta, and I'm thinking some cyborg-Overwatch Genji hunting God Program Ra, but there's so many things I can do with that I haven't even settled on an outline. Also that little bit about them meeting I promised. Many Robot boyfriends!
> 
> Until next time!

**Author's Note:**

> What are you talking about, birds totally nest in fall, pshhhhh.


End file.
